The Owl Who Would Sing. by hennethgalad

Chapter 1

Read Chapter 1

 

   

  It happened that a long long time ago, when the Trees were in bloom, there was an owl who adored Vána more than any other bird, and wished to sing for her more than anything else in the world.
   But alas, the owl could only hoot, and Vána did not smile on him, and his heart grieved, and he wept.

   At last a cunning crow came cackling by. "What are you crying for? Wetting your beak!"
   And the owl looked at the crow and said "Woeful am I, who would sing for beautiful Vána, but no..."
   The clever crow coughed, but did not laugh, for he was a kind bird "Can’t sing? I can’t sing either, what of it?"
   But the mournful owl hunched his shoulders and puffed out his feathers, except the ones on his face, which were wet with all his tears. The crafty crow put his head on one side, and croaked eagerly. "Aiwendil! Seek out wise Aiwendil! He knows all that there is to know of birds, and other creatures!" (the crow looked down on anyone who couldn’t fly...)
   "Oooh! So true! That’s what I'll do!"

   The owl searched and searched for Aiwendil, and at last he found the wise old maia sitting by a pool.
   "Aiwendil! I come to you! I long to sing, but only hoot."
   Aiwendil looked up at the owl and shook his head sadly "My poor friend, I wish I could help you, but I cannot teach you to sing, I do not know how. But I will think on this, and seek an answer to your wish. Will you wait for me in the Gardens of Irmo, at Lórien?"
   And the owl said "Ooh thankyou! That’s what I'll do!"

   The Gardens of Lórien were very lovely, full of sweet-scented flowers, and graceful willows trailing their fresh green leaves in the clear water. The owl sighed and perched on a tree, and settled his feathers, and gradually his tears dried, and he began slowly to cheer up, for this was just the sort of place that his beloved Vána would like, and even if she did not happen to pass, it was almost as lovely as if she were there herself. 

   And after a time Irmo, marvel of the Vala, strange and wonderful beyond the wit of the owl to describe, came by, and greeted the owl with a smile.
   "Welcome to Lórien! Here lay aside all cares and fears, for mine is the realm of dreams."
   "Thankyou my good lord! That’s not what I came to do! Aiwendil comes with tidings for me, if it’s no trouble to you."
   "Tidings? What do you seek, my friend?"
   So the owl told him of his dream, and Irmo smiled "You need not wait for Aiwendil, for I can help you. Rest now, then go merrily on your way, and sing for Vána, as heartily as the nightingale!"
   And the owl slept, and when he awoke, he sang, and his voice was a delight to his ears, and he flew merrily away.

   But Aiwendil found no owl when he came to Lórien, and he was sad for he had found no way to teach the owl to sing. And he came to Irmo, and told him of the quest of the owl. And Irmo laughed "I have given him rest. His voice is as it ever was, but now that he has found peace, to him it will seem henceforth fair and melodious. He will not trouble you more."
   Aiwendil frowned "But you have fooled him, he will appear absurd, he will be mocked!"
   Irmo smiled "But the owl cares only for Vána. She knows his heart, his valour and his love, they are far sweeter than any mere chirping. His ardour will please her, and she will smile on him once more."