It was just after dark when Saelindril finally returned to the little patch of woodland where she’d begun the day. The copse of trees, situated a little ways outside the fabled Vale of Imladris, would have been entirely unremarkable, had she not left a friend there to sleep. Raising her cupped hands to her lips, Saelindril took in a deep breath.
“Huh-hoo,” she called. “Huh-hoo!” The eerie, breathy, woodland sound would have been unremarkable to most passersby.
“Kewick!” came the answering call, shrill but quiet in comparison. Reaching down, the elf unclipped a well-worn glove from her belt and pulled it over her left hand. With barely a whisper of wings, her friend landed upon her outstretched arm. “Kewick!”
“Súldil,” the elf smiled, using the name she’d given her winged companion, and which the majestic bird had apparently decided to accept. Both elf and owl hailed from the Greenwood, and Saelindril felt blessed that the tawny owl had come so far from home and family to accompany her. “Thank you for answering my call, friend,” she said.
Súldil waited in silence, swiveling her head around to fix Saelindril with her midnight-black eyes. “Well…?” her body language seemed to ask. Saelindril didn’t know if the owl truly understood it when she spoke to her, or if she really cared to communicate with the tilt of her head or position of her wing, but it was said that the birds were wise and spoke their own tongue. Perhaps they understood the Silvan tongue, too.
In any case, the elf responded to the perhaps-imagined question with a long-drawn sigh. “I was right,” she said. “My brother did come to Imladris, nearly a month ago. To visit the libraries.”
Súldil continued to stare, almost as though she understood that Saelindril still felt ill at ease.
“They showed me where he was conducting his research,” Saelindril said, trying to keep her voice from rising, “and, I don’t know…” Saelindril paused, thinking. Many of the books in that section had seemed harmless enough. But some of them…
Súldil fluffed her feathers anxiously, breaking Saelindril from her thoughts. “Why would he leave the Greenwood so suddenly, so without warning?” Saelindril finished.
The owl blinked, her eyes a blend of concern and curiosity. “What are you going to do about it?” they seemed to ask. Gingerly, Saelindril sat upon the ground, bird still perched upon her arm, and paused to stare up through the trees at the stars above. She frowned as she reached her decision.
“Can you carry a message home for me, Súldil?” she asked her friend.
With a little hop, Súldil bounced off her arm and onto the ground for the barest of moments, before her silent wings pulled her up to a low-hanging bough of a nearby tree. That seemed to be a “Yes,” so Saelindril pulled her quill, her ink, and one of her precious sheets of paper from the satchel at her side.
Love, she began, smiling a bit as she thought of her husband. The good news is that my fool of a brother did indeed visit the libraries of Imladris, so I have not been chasing merely an idle fancy. The bad news is that Glimdailon did not stop there and has continued to travel westward. I must confess that my heart cannot reconcile the apparent suddenness of this decision with what I know of my sibling, nor can I believe that he would take such a course without at least informing us… informing me… of it.
Saelindril paused, considering how best to convey the next part.
I must follow him, Love; or try to, at least. You know how much I hate to leave you and our family and the Greenwood, but I cannot shake the feeling that something is amiss.
Please give my love to my parents and our children and help them to see that I do this only because I must. Father, in particular, is unlikely to take this well.
Saelindril paused. That was an understatement, and she felt a pang of guilt at writing it. But her way was set before her, and she could not simply turn aside. With a sigh, she addressed, then signed the letter.
Blessings and love to you. -Tatharwen.
Saelindril held out her arm, and Súldil returned to it, lifting a leg expectantly. “It’s for my husband,” the elf said, gently tying the missive to the owl’s leg with a bit of leather. “Thank you, my friend,” she whispered. “Fly safely.”
The bird didn’t move, and Saelindril furrowed her brow with confusion, before she realized what the owl might be waiting for. “Oh!” She paused, considering. “Meet me along the Mitheithel, north of the Great West Road. I will wait for you.”
Súldil stretched her legs, fluffed her feathers, and took off, disappearing quickly and silently into the night. Getting to her feet, Saelindril watched her go until she could no longer make her out, a thought striking her as she herself turned away toward the west. It was one thing for an owl to find a familiar elf in its homeland. It would be quite another feat if Súldil found Saelindril in an unfamiliar land based on words alone.
“Well, that will answer that,” Saelindril chuckled as she began to make her way toward the Ford of Bruinen. If Súldil found her, there would be no question as to the bird’s intelligence.
The moon was full and the High Moors well-lit. Saelindril expected to make good time.
Next: And Then There Were Three
An owl's perspective: She-Who-Wanders
