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December 17, 2011

The Departure

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Aztryd 's few possessions are packed into her backpack.  Nizl is fed, and warmly wrapped, and packed in layers of absorbent linen cloth -- for the journey will be long -- and secured inside the pack.  Aztryd has brought two extra blankets from the palace storerooms, for her own cloak, from the southlands, will not provide enough protection today from the weather, which is already dusting the cobblestones with wet snow.  By this time tomorrow, she will be back in her childhood home, safe and warm, among her own kin.  Between here and home lies only this last stage of the journey, the strangest of all.

Aztryd, the dwarven mother
The coming dawn shows only as a pale streak of silver, among the heavy clouds.  Aztryd's boots splosh heavily in the mush, as she makes her way down the deserted streets, to the harbor.  Ahead, she hears voices.

Elwing the White
Elwing stands on the docks in the freezing cold searching the skies for any sign of relief from the cloud. In her heart she fears the trip ahead, but knows it is essential.

Nole waits on the dock by his king and Elwing. He has brought the necessary material to help keep Aztryd secure on the saddle on the trip home. "What a day to fly" he mutters darkly as he eyes the snow falling and fierce waves.


Olwe raises a half-gloved hand, the fingers lightly  brushing the soft, white feathers of the giant swan which waits patiently before them. He and Nole had risen while night still claimed the sky and fitted the saddle to the large bird. Instead of the rosy fingers of morning bringing a promise of warmth, a fine snow began to fall, and even now larger flakes drop lazily from heavy clouds above them.  Turning to Nole, his breath puffs out in a foggy mist as he answers, "It would be less so on the morrow, friend." 

Hearing the words of her uncle, Elwing looks up into the soft eyes of the giant swan and smiles reassuringly. Placing a comforting arm around the great swan's neck she whispers in the language of the seabirds. "Fear not, Alqua, I will guide your way. Together we will reach the safe harbour for which we seek. Then Aztryd and Nizl will be safe with their family, and we can shelter from the cold 'ere long."


"Good morrow to ye all," Aztryd greets them, rolling her eyes wryly upwards  at the sky.  "This is the bird who will carry me?"  The swan, dimly outlined in the half-light, towers nearly three times Aztryd's height.


Nolë, the Teleri sea merchant
 Nole turns to Aztryd and nods. The snow is already covering the glistening feathers of Alqua. He watches Elwing speak in an unfamiliar language and waits. The wind whips his robes and hair around.

The blue eyes of the Lord of Alqualonde rest upon the form of the dwarf mother.  Bundled in her cloak and back pack, she seems so much smaller to her. For a moment, he open his mouth to speak, but the closes it. Drawing in the cold air, he shivers, though more from the thought of how the journey must seem, viewed from her eyes, more earthbound than sky-seeking.  He gives a nod and inclines his head. "Good morrow, little mother, " he greets instead. "Did you rest at all last night?"

 Elwing turns and sees Azrtyd and smiles encouragingly.

 Aztryd smiles up at the kindly face of her host, the king of these elves.  "Thank you for your courtesy.  This will be," -- she draws a deep breath -- "a great adventure.  Indeed, I thank you for all the kindness you have given us.  And not least for the loan of this noble bird."  She attempts a bow, but stops far short of a proper formal depth, hampered by her pack.  "And you, sister Elwing.  I am most glad you are accompanying us.  Difficult it must be for you to fly, in this weather, but we would be lost without you guiding us."

Olwe turns to his neice and favors her with a tight, careworn smile, his eyes resting upon her delicate features.  "Are you able to make this journey, Elwing?" He asks in a low voice.

Elwing nods. "I am happy to help in anyway I can!" she replies. "Plus, that wonderful cooking of your gammy's is very appealing!" She grins at Aztryd.  Elwing hears the note of concern in her uncle's voice and turns and looks him directly in the eye, seeing his expression, then replies, "You know I will do anything for Aztryd, uncle. Your warnings about the evil pervading the lands have not gone unheeded. This is a task I must complete."

 Nole watches and listens to his friends, he wishes Aztryd would stay but understands she misses her people.

Reaching out with the same hand he had just used to stroke the downy neck of the graceful Alqua, he grips her elbow lightly and  purses his lips for a moment.  "I know," he finally admits.  "But you are blood to me, and my heart is sore for asking this of you."  He casts a look over at Aztryd. "Yet, if we do not get her home this way, what manner of travel will she have to endure, and with a babe to boot?"

Nole watches the pair embrace. He silently prays that no evil will befall them on their journey.

Elwing nods in agreement, takes her uncle's hand and moves towards him to embrace him before moving out of his grasp and around to the side of the swan, brushing away the tear threatening to form a sliver of ice on her cheek.

"You must take care, Elwing, " he whispers, hugging her tight to him.  "You must come back to us." Elwing nods her head as she wipes her eyes.

 Aztryd looks down, silent, in respect for the cost of gift these folks are giving, in helping her home.  "Know that I and my kin will remember this," she says solemnly.

Slowly, Olwe turns to her and kneeling down,  he meets her gaze with a level gaze of his own. "You must warn your kin," he says, his voice quiet and still. Little lines frame the mouth of the Lord of the Teleri. "You must be our envoy to your people. A darkness is coming, a threat. Perhaps greater than any before.  A dark shadow is falling across all the world, not just Middle Earth.  We must put aside all old grievances and misgivings. We must lay to rest any strife and stand together to meet it.  Tell them Olwe of Alqualonde greets them and bids them prepare.  He offers the hand of friendship and alliance against the threatening eternal night." Then, gracefully, the Lord of Alqualonde rose to his feet.

Turning to his niece, he frowns. "Where is your pack, Elwing? When you arrive, you will need clothes and a warm cloak."

Aztryd nods, not understanding all the import of the king's message, but committing it to memory.  The snow is falling more heavily now, and 'the journey never started takes longest to complete.'

 Elwing turns to her uncle, chuckling to herself. "Don't you remember, uncle, when I landed here so long ago, I had only the clothes on my back!" I have no need of supplies while in flight, and believe me when I tell you we will be landing right inside the compound where Aztryd's Gammy will no doubt welcome us with all we need. Do not fear for me. Aztryd and Nizl require protection but I shall be covered in the warm downy feathers of flight," she reminds him.

Olwe looks up at the grey, cloud laden, sky. "Perhaps, but it was warmer then, and you will need something more once you land and  assume your true form once more." He unclasps his own cloak, and fold it up. "We can secure this behind Aztryd with the silver bindings so you will have it once you arrive." He  glances over at Nole.

"Ah yes the silver binding." He pulls a roll of material out from the folds of his robes. "The fellow I traded this from suggested I try to keep it warm and dry in cold weather, that way it is more sticky." He pulls at the loose end and looks at Aztryd. Elwing nods her thanks to her uncle.

 Aztryd eyes the giant swan uncertainly, and the silver roll equally uncertainly.  "You, friend Nole, were the first I met on these shores, and you are here to see me on my way.  Can you help me up?"  She nods toward the high saddle.


Olwe stretches out a hand in an offer to hold the silver roll while Nole assists the dwarven mother.

Nole smiles and hands the roll of silver binding to his king. He replies. "Yes, I remember first meeting you here on this dock. It grieves me to see you depart but I will help you." He offers her help up into the saddle on Alqua.

Elwing moves and places a comforting arm around Alqua's neck, whispering words of encouragement to the giant swan to sit still and not frighten Aztryd before she begins her long flight home.

Holding the roll of silver binding, Olwe moves up beside the giant swan, murmuring to her in Telerin.  Then he leans in and whispers in Elwing's ear, "I have included a flask of Teleri spirits.  If her courage flags, it may help to booster her spirits and help her with her purpose. But not too much. The winds will be sharp and cold, and though the drink may feel warm going down, it will not keep the body from the cold."

With Nole's assistance, Aztryd clambers awkwardly onto the saddle.  As long as the swan stays still, this is not too bad.  She settles her cloak and blankets and pack as comfortably as possible, and smiles tentatively.  Seeing she has settled herself into the saddle as comfortable as she may, Olwe offers the roll of binding to Nole. "Make sure the belt fits snugly about her, but not too tight."  He moves over to the other side of the swan to assist in securing Aztryd to the saddle.

Olwë, Lord of Alqualondë
Elwing whispers, "I understand, uncle. I shall remember." She then looks up at Aztryd and smiles to see her seated on Alqua's back.

Nole takes the roll of shiny binding from his King. He then pulls a piece off to act as a belt and reaches over Alqua's back to secure Aztryd to the seat. He braces Olwe's cloak behind Aztryd, hoping to make her more comfortable. He steps back to observe his work.

On the other side, Olwe finds the piece of leather he and Nole added to the seat of the saddle. Gingerly, he snakes it about her waist and sliding the leather through the large buckle, draws it snug and fastens it.

Nole looks at the stirrups and sees that they are too long, as he feared the day they were adjusting the saddle. He takes more binding and secures Aztryd's leg to the stirrup and moves over to the other side. The wind continues to howl and the snow falls. "I don't think we can use too much of this to secure Aztryd," he says.

Aztryd watches anxiously, as Nole and Olwe fasten her securely to the swan.  "Yes," she says, "I have no desire to be blown off into yon sea."




Stepping back out of Nole's way, Olwe moves to his niece's side.  He raises blue eyes skyward as he agrees with the sea merchant. "We have done the best we can. We should delay no longer." Turning to Elwing, he asks quietly, "Ready?"


Elwing turns and nods to her uncle and smiles at Nole. "As ready as I will ever be, uncle."  Elwing starts to shiver with the falling temperatures and feels the need to change before it becomes so cold her body will not feel warm again. Knowing that the swan's covering she will have for her flight through the heavens will be waterproof and warming, she runs to the end of the dock and leaps into the air, changing with a shimmering of stars into her swanlike form, she beats her wings and circles around the harbour, watching Alqua below.

"Ready, Nizl, my magpie?" Aztryd whispers.  It is impossible to tell, over the howling of the wind, whether Nizl answered.  "Let us go, then," Aztryd says bravely.

Nole looks over Aztryd once more before nodding. "I believe I have secured you as best as I can." He smiles. "I hope one day our paths cross again."

"Farewell, good friends, and thank you!"  Aztryd hopes the swan knows what to do next, for she doesn't.

Olwe watches his niece transform into a graceful  swan. His blue eyes watching her as she flies lazy circles above them, waiting. Then he reluctantly lowers his gaze and turns to where the great swan awaits. In Telerin, he tell Alqua, "Arise, Alqua, follow Elwing. Fly sure." He lifts his hand, palm up as a signal. He turns his careworn gaze upon the dwarven mother and in Sindarin, he tells her, "Good journey, little mother.  Fly swiftly and safe."  Then he watches the swan carefully rise.


The great swan spreads her wings, and lifts up, following Elwing. Elwing calls out loudly in the screeching language of the seabirds as she circles past Alqua, seeing her rise from the dock with her precious cargo.


Aztryd gasps as the swan soars up.  Even the lowering weather cannot disguise the magnificent view of the island spread out below -- a view as fine as from any mountaintop.  But now the swan turns outward, away from the island, toward an endless expanse of grey sea and grey sky, following the grey speck which is Elwing, leading the way.


 Elwing takes one last look around the Swanhaven, hearing the cries of the seabirds below, and noting Alqua following close behind her, then turns her gaze to the seas ahead, traveling eastwards as fast as she can before Arien's chariot completes its traverse across the sky.

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