A Fresh Wind by Grundy

A Fresh Wind

Read A Fresh Wind

Súyelírë did her best not to laugh.

Young Anairon was proud as punch, but Tindomiel looked more annoyed than anything now that they’d gotten her somewhat damaged equipment back to the workshop she’d used to build it. She was glaring at the offending section of the frame that had previously supported her sail as if its failure to withstand a collision was a personal insult.

As far as Súyelírë could tell, having gotten as far as they had without any adults noticing what they were up to was nearly as much of an accomplishment as the actual flying.

Though even now, peering at the drawings and diagrams tacked up – all out in the open, Tinu hadn’t made any attempt whatsoever to conceal them – Súyelírë wasn’t entirely sure how she would have concluded ‘flying contraption’ from what looked like an oddly-shaped sail. She also hadn’t the faintest idea what some of the other contraptions visible in the work area might be for.

“You two did well for a first sail. And I suppose you can’t really test this device of yours out any other way but trying it,” Olu said.

Súyelírë could hear him suppressing the sigh. The children had thankfully had the sense to try flying out over water, where Ulmo and Uinen between them would have made sure Eärendil’s granddaughter came to no true harm. She wasn’t sure if that had been the motivation for working in Alqualondë, or if they’d just preferred not to have their Noldorin kin underfoot – and probably asking far more questions.

“Grandpop, give us some credit,” Tinu snorted. “We weren’t flying entirely by the seat of our pants. There were calculations and wind tunnel tests and everything.”

Olu raised an eyebrow. It sounded like they were in for more novelty today.

“Wind tunnel, my little star?”

Anairon grinned and let Tinu do the talking – it turned out this was also a concept of California, and commonly used by advanced craftsmen. The children’s version was much simpler, of course, and required them to make miniature versions of the device to test. But it had been sufficient for them to ascertain that their full sized version should both fly and hold their weight.

Tinu might actually be prouder of the ‘wind tunnel’ than the flying sail itself, judging by her expression as she demonstrated its workings to a fascinated Olu.

“Hm,” he said thoughtfully after watching how their small model behaved. “Could this also tell us how other shapes of sail would behave?”

“Sure, that’s the whole point of it,” Tindomiel nodded.

“Just as long as it’s scaled down properly,” Anairon put in, not about to let her omit any disclaimers.

“In that case, I suspect I know a craftsman or two who will want to meet this ‘wind tunnel’ of yours.”

Both children stood a bit taller at that. Flying was one thing. Having your contribution to a craft acknowledged was another, and one the Noldor put considerable weight on. Young Anairon had yet to choose a craft, let alone make his mark in one, and she knew he fretted over that.

Nolofinwë may puff up as badly as his older brother ever did when he hears the full story, Olu told her quietly. Flying as a carefully thought out endeavor? Involving mathematics and experimentation? And successful to boot?

She shushed him before he could set her off laughing.

“Tinu, I’ve a question as well,” Súyelírë put in, having waited patiently for the technical explanation to finish. “How precisely does one fly ‘by the seat of one’s pants’?”

She was curious to know if perhaps someone had tried turning their trousers into a sail.

Looking at her granddaughter’s slightly perplexed expression, she smiled.

“Perhaps the story will go better over snacks? A small celebration seems in order for the first elves to fly.”

That put smiles back on both young ones’ faces – and gave Tindomiel time to attempt to organize her thoughts about the origins of that rather interesting expression.