Red Crow by Lferion

Free Flight

Elwing has a small adventure, Elrond writes a letter.  A quadruple drabble and a double drabble.

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Prompts - L:O2 Lost at Sea, A:B3 Screen Painting, P:N5 Sea Shanty, F:I1 Wingfic

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Somehow, they had gotten themselves lost. Sea-lost. Storm-lost. All around Voronwe's small ship the water was like glass, hardly a ripple to rock the hull. The sky the color of gull wings, too thick to see the sun. The squall had blown up around them, batting them back and forth, round and round, until they were all soaked and dizzy and bruised. Then nothing but flat grey-white sky, flat grey-green sea. Were Osse and Uinen and their kin making a game of them? Elwing could not imagine why, but that there was some intended purpose to this was even less comforting a thought. People were expecting them. People would worry did they not return within a reasonable period. Celebrian would worry, Elrond having come with Elwing on this trip. She disliked making Celebrian worry.

Her wings itched at her shoulder blades. She thought of the great painted screen Olwe had gifted Elrond, to stand before the main hearth in the Great Hall -- Hall of Fire, as both he and Celebrian called it, though apparently little like its namesake in Imladris -- when no fires burned. Alqualonde and the near seas as they had been in star- and Tree-light, when she and Earendil had brought the Silmaril, in sunlight, and now, after the changing of the world. A beautiful thing, painted in exquisite detail, careful as a map.

It was a map. Three maps, drawn no doubt by Eonwe for the first, and Earendil for the other two. She could clearly see the third panel in her mind's eye. All she had to do was see where they were. She pulled off her mantel and let her wings manifest. Up she lept, catching the air, feeling the tug of currents as she flew higher. Familiar currents.

She circled above the ship, aware of Voronwe and Elrond's distant faces, their attention, the ship like an ink drawing on the silk ocean of the screen. There. That pair of islands like clasping hands, and there, the three dancing sisters. She knew precisely where they were. She called out, a piercing cry, and circled the ship again. Already Voronwe was was directing the oar deployment. Soon enough they were ready to follow her. As she stretched and tilted her wings, she could hear the steady, jaunty beat of Fly, Seagulls Fly, as the crew began steadily to row, the ship to move.

Home before sunset.

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Dear Atya,

Per your last -- My mother chooses not to know I write, both to you and Fingon. I choose not to make it obvious to her, but not a secret. Celebrian does know, but neither reads nor speaks of them. In any wise, you need not worry that our correspondence will be hindered, or be held against any of us.

On a happier note, I have located -- or rather Súriquessë did most of the actual searching -- all the volumes of Cemendur Oroman's "Cultivation and Husbandry at Higher Altitudes" including the separate appendix on dyestuffs, inks, paints and paper. I will send the appendix with this letter, since it is already copied and properly listed in the catalogue now. The rest will come later. Do not protest you should not have scholarly books of this sort. It is scholars, not their scholarship at issue. The bound single signature I think you will recognize, and appreciate. I certainly enjoyed putting it together for you.

Voronwe reports, and I can confirm, that the Ennor Seafarer's Guild has opened unrestricted membership to all who lived in Ennor, regardless of other status, do they meet guild requirements and agree to guild rules.

Love,
Elrond

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