Maker of Songs by Himring

Like to the lark at break of day arising

Rian, recently arrived as refugee in Dor-lomin, welcomes the morning.

She stands, bare feet wet with chill dew. High above her head, the lark trills in the brightening air. If Rian had been an elf, maybe she would have had a song ready to match? As it is, she lifts her arms mutely, inviting the bird song to percolate into head and heart. Maybe a song will come of it; she can hope.

The sun comes up fully over Dor-lomin, rising over hills and mountain peaks in the east. And all at once, Rian is sad again.

Yet the lark sings on, joy unquenched, and recalls her to the morning.

Chapter End Notes

For the quotation prompt "Like to the lark at break of day arising" (from the Shakespeare’s Sonnets bingo card).