Owl Feathers {July 3011}[Thangureth & Amarië]
Apr 13, 2018 0:17:14 GMT -5
Post by SAEROS on Apr 13, 2018 0:17:14 GMT -5
When storms past, the sun returned and brought with it, warmth. There was a kindness to Saeros that had never been seen before except by the few old enough to remember such a warmth. Sitting with a carving knife in hand, Saeros was shaping a length of yew wood. Slow was the process of making a bow and he had been working for nearly three weeks, taking his time to carve out the shape of the bow. The piece of yew now actually looked like a bow.There were upper and lower limbs, a grip formed in the center, Saeros was currently working on refining the top nock, where the bow would be stringed from.
Sitting on a fallen tree, Saeros’ fingers diligent in their task. If by memory he was retelling the story of Eärendil:
His bow was made of dragon horn. While there was no dragon horn to be had. Yew would do just fine. Sturdy and strong, excellent for an elven bow Saeros fingers had carved out the upper nocks with care while the careless sunlight played in his golden hair, the nock did not take terribly long to carve out, the bow across his lap, Saeros would begin to work on the bottom nock. His small blade gentle in the final sculpting of the bow. The knocks were the lower half of the bow that needed to be refined in their carve out. Then the wood could be inlaid along the limbs with design and writing. His tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth in a concentrated effort of thought. Saeros was trying to let go of the past and her thunderstorms that had shadowed much of his life. That had kept him from the son his wife bore him and the beautiful Noldorian princess that he called his bride.
Saeros eventually would pausing in song, raising his eyes from the bow as he heard one...no...two pairs of footsteps moving, not on the ground up above in the trees. "Ae! Faro vae?" Hello, Good hunting Saeros would ask the pair that had left him early this morning within the chambers of their now larger family quarters. Telling him over breakfast they might on this the day go look for a particular type of bird in the trees. Having left him to work on the present that was would soon be done. It seems Saeros was now discovered with his gift.
Sitting on a fallen tree, Saeros’ fingers diligent in their task. If by memory he was retelling the story of Eärendil:
”Eärendil was a mariner
that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat of timber felled
in Nimbrethil to journey in;
her sails he wove of silver fair,
of silver were her lanterns made,
her prow was fashioned like a swan,
and light upon her banners laid.
In panoply of ancient kings,
in chainéd rings he armoured him;
his shining shield was scored with runes
to ward all wounds and harm from him;
his bow was made of dragon-horn,
his arrows shorn of ebony,
of silver was his habergeon,
his scabbard of chalcedony;
his sword of steel was valiant,
of adamant his helmet tall,
an eagle-plume upon his crest,
upon his breast an emerald.”
that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat of timber felled
in Nimbrethil to journey in;
her sails he wove of silver fair,
of silver were her lanterns made,
her prow was fashioned like a swan,
and light upon her banners laid.
In panoply of ancient kings,
in chainéd rings he armoured him;
his shining shield was scored with runes
to ward all wounds and harm from him;
his bow was made of dragon-horn,
his arrows shorn of ebony,
of silver was his habergeon,
his scabbard of chalcedony;
his sword of steel was valiant,
of adamant his helmet tall,
an eagle-plume upon his crest,
upon his breast an emerald.”
His bow was made of dragon horn. While there was no dragon horn to be had. Yew would do just fine. Sturdy and strong, excellent for an elven bow Saeros fingers had carved out the upper nocks with care while the careless sunlight played in his golden hair, the nock did not take terribly long to carve out, the bow across his lap, Saeros would begin to work on the bottom nock. His small blade gentle in the final sculpting of the bow. The knocks were the lower half of the bow that needed to be refined in their carve out. Then the wood could be inlaid along the limbs with design and writing. His tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth in a concentrated effort of thought. Saeros was trying to let go of the past and her thunderstorms that had shadowed much of his life. That had kept him from the son his wife bore him and the beautiful Noldorian princess that he called his bride.
Beneath the Moon and under star
he wandered far from northern strands,
bewildered on enchanted ways
beyond the days of mortal lands.
From gnashing of the Narrow Ice
where shadow lies on frozen hills,
from nether heats and burning waste
he turned in haste, and roving still
on starless waters far astray
at last he came to Night of Naught,
and passed, and never sight he saw
of shining shore nor light he sought.
The winds of wrath came driving him,
and blindly in the foam he fled
from west to east and errandless,
unheralded he homeward sped.
There flying Elwing came to him,
and flame was in the darkness lit;
more bright than light of diamond
the fire upon her carcanet.
The Silmaril she bound on him
and crowned him with the living light
and dauntless then with burning brow
he turned his prow, and in the night
from Otherworld beyond the Sea
there strong and free a storm arose,
a wind of power in Tarmenel;
by paths that seldom mortal goes
his boat it bore with biting breath
as might of death across the grey
and long forsaken seas distressed;
from east to west he passed away.
he wandered far from northern strands,
bewildered on enchanted ways
beyond the days of mortal lands.
From gnashing of the Narrow Ice
where shadow lies on frozen hills,
from nether heats and burning waste
he turned in haste, and roving still
on starless waters far astray
at last he came to Night of Naught,
and passed, and never sight he saw
of shining shore nor light he sought.
The winds of wrath came driving him,
and blindly in the foam he fled
from west to east and errandless,
unheralded he homeward sped.
There flying Elwing came to him,
and flame was in the darkness lit;
more bright than light of diamond
the fire upon her carcanet.
The Silmaril she bound on him
and crowned him with the living light
and dauntless then with burning brow
he turned his prow, and in the night
from Otherworld beyond the Sea
there strong and free a storm arose,
a wind of power in Tarmenel;
by paths that seldom mortal goes
his boat it bore with biting breath
as might of death across the grey
and long forsaken seas distressed;
from east to west he passed away.
Saeros eventually would pausing in song, raising his eyes from the bow as he heard one...no...two pairs of footsteps moving, not on the ground up above in the trees. "Ae! Faro vae?" Hello, Good hunting Saeros would ask the pair that had left him early this morning within the chambers of their now larger family quarters. Telling him over breakfast they might on this the day go look for a particular type of bird in the trees. Having left him to work on the present that was would soon be done. It seems Saeros was now discovered with his gift.