Many Journeys by Elleth

Make a Bird of Me

For the prompts:

Clichés: Breakfast in Bed, Curtain Fic, Gift-Giving, Domesticity
Lyrics and Poetry: “I sing for love, I sing for me, I'll shout it out like a bird set free”

Nellas and Niënor wander in Doriath in summer. References Sweet Water and Gold, where Nellas re-named Niënor Ninglor.

“Would that I could sing out what my heart says, seeing you first each day when I wake.”

From the fire, Nellas looked up, smiling at Niënor who pushed herself up on her elbows in the bedroll and sniffed the scent rising from the birch-bark sack that Nellas had strung over the flame. “Tea?” she asked, and Nellas nodded. “Mint for the morning. It is not much of a meal, but it is warm, and we will come past a pheasant run if we strike north toward Aros later, then we can eat.”

“Warmth is enough for me,” Niënor said and reached out for a proffered cup without rising.

“But why do you not sing?” Nellas asked, letting their fingers brush and relishing the caress in a heart-skip. She nestled to Niënor’s side, and wound an arm around her middle, slipping her fingers along the seam of Niënor’s shirt until she found the warm skin beneath. Niënor’s breath caught, but she pulled away before the beginnings of her smile bloomed into more.

“Mourning does not lend itself well to song - least of all about love. I am afraid if I do it -” Niënor took a sip of tea to bide her time, and smoothed down a mussed strand of hair,“ - I shall give it all away. Ears that ought not hear might take notice.”

“But - do you not remember my gift? I made it so you could be free of this name and of its shadow. Ninglor. Will you not sing?” A flutter of hurt made itself known through Nellas’ chest. They had found the lily bank along the brook only the day before, and Niënor had emerged from the water sputtering and laughing as though her new name had washed away all the cares that wore on her.

“It is not so easy,” Niënor said, her voice quiet with apology. “Would that my life until my coming to Doriath were oblivion so I could sing with the birds, like one that has flown from its cage and not merely into another one that is larger, and fairer. But you - you may yet make such a bird of me, given time enough.”