First Thing in the Morning [Adanedhel] {July 3011}
Jul 24, 2018 17:20:59 GMT -5
Post by ELIRA on Jul 24, 2018 17:20:59 GMT -5
The satchel at her side shifted and rustled, though she was not moving, and Kelet tapped her fingers against the stone wall, humming an old tune which had drifted to her observatory tower in the cool night air, from white stone streets below her. In Nalaikh she would watch from her window as the young children were taken in to their homes by their eej, their mothers, and she would listen as the gongs would ring from the temples on the red cliffs, and listen to the tinkling of bells on the women as they tucked their families away for the night. She would watch the colorful flags hung across the archways and out the windows, spanning the narrow alleyways as they waved in the breeze, and she would await the sound of the singing. Songs would merge together, her sensitive ears seeking out the hushed lullabies which would come from the homes where the small children dwelled.
The songs, soft, and gentle were still her favorite. Even knowing now the elven words to music, and listening to the elf minstrels sing, there was nothing that could compare to the way the drifting lullabies had made her feel. Her own mother used to sing to her as well, though Kelet no longer remembered the words or the tunes to the song which she had sung. Instead, she hummed a cradle song named for the drifting sands.
And waited.
There was a quick spinning within her satchel, and looking down upon it, her hum turned to silence as Kelet pressed her hand over the warm lump from the outside of the bag. “Chhh… kheveer suu. Kherev ta nadtai khamt yavakh gej baigaa bol ööröö ööriigöö shiidekh yostoi.” Sit still. If you are going to come with me, you must settle yourself.
A whirring sound came from the satchel, then a squeaking, “Chip, chip, chiitttttt, chip.” Another whirr and a buzz. A little black nose peeped out of the top of the satchel, and then suddenly climbing were two beady black eyes, four black feet, and a puffy tuft of black tail clawing it's way out of the satchel and across the strap that Kelet wore, punching tiny holes in her dress all along the way. The young black squirrel settled upon her shoulder and began to wash it's paws, rubbing them against it's face.
“Tengeriin odod chi önöödör deggüi baina. Bi chamaig gertee khayakh baisan baikh,” Kelet chastised swiftly. Stars in the heavens, you are naughty today. I should have left you home. The squirrel seemed not to mind her disagreeable tone, and only chittered again, rubbing it's nose, before it spun on her shoulder in half a dozen circles one direction, and then completed the dozen in the other way, twisting itself into her white hair.
Kherem was much more disobedient than Degdeekhei had been.
Adanedhel had said they would meet after the morning meal, and now the dining hall had been emptied of elves, and she had not seen him. Perhaps it was that he had breakfasted in his private quarters, with his Naneth, but still, he was not here. She waited outside the healing rooms, already having announced with intent to Glerorn within that Adanedhel would be coming. That he too bore scars upon his wrists. That he had not had tended a wound which still pained him, which he had said was of a Nâzgul blade. Glerorn's expression had become serious at the word, though Kelet had turned back for the door, saying she would wait outside the entry, or find the raven haired elf if he did not make his appearance, and thus, she was. Tapping against the stone as she waited. Her tune did not turn back to her lips, as her frustration piled that Adanedhel had not arrived when he had said he would, though along with frustration came sincere worry at what could be keeping him.
The songs, soft, and gentle were still her favorite. Even knowing now the elven words to music, and listening to the elf minstrels sing, there was nothing that could compare to the way the drifting lullabies had made her feel. Her own mother used to sing to her as well, though Kelet no longer remembered the words or the tunes to the song which she had sung. Instead, she hummed a cradle song named for the drifting sands.
And waited.
There was a quick spinning within her satchel, and looking down upon it, her hum turned to silence as Kelet pressed her hand over the warm lump from the outside of the bag. “Chhh… kheveer suu. Kherev ta nadtai khamt yavakh gej baigaa bol ööröö ööriigöö shiidekh yostoi.” Sit still. If you are going to come with me, you must settle yourself.
A whirring sound came from the satchel, then a squeaking, “Chip, chip, chiitttttt, chip.” Another whirr and a buzz. A little black nose peeped out of the top of the satchel, and then suddenly climbing were two beady black eyes, four black feet, and a puffy tuft of black tail clawing it's way out of the satchel and across the strap that Kelet wore, punching tiny holes in her dress all along the way. The young black squirrel settled upon her shoulder and began to wash it's paws, rubbing them against it's face.
“Tengeriin odod chi önöödör deggüi baina. Bi chamaig gertee khayakh baisan baikh,” Kelet chastised swiftly. Stars in the heavens, you are naughty today. I should have left you home. The squirrel seemed not to mind her disagreeable tone, and only chittered again, rubbing it's nose, before it spun on her shoulder in half a dozen circles one direction, and then completed the dozen in the other way, twisting itself into her white hair.
Kherem was much more disobedient than Degdeekhei had been.
Adanedhel had said they would meet after the morning meal, and now the dining hall had been emptied of elves, and she had not seen him. Perhaps it was that he had breakfasted in his private quarters, with his Naneth, but still, he was not here. She waited outside the healing rooms, already having announced with intent to Glerorn within that Adanedhel would be coming. That he too bore scars upon his wrists. That he had not had tended a wound which still pained him, which he had said was of a Nâzgul blade. Glerorn's expression had become serious at the word, though Kelet had turned back for the door, saying she would wait outside the entry, or find the raven haired elf if he did not make his appearance, and thus, she was. Tapping against the stone as she waited. Her tune did not turn back to her lips, as her frustration piled that Adanedhel had not arrived when he had said he would, though along with frustration came sincere worry at what could be keeping him.