Wayward Daughter, Carry on by Himring

Chapter 1 (of 3)

The first chapter does not yet feature either of the tagged Valar.

Young Ramavoite grew up in a sheltered environment. Her watchful and loving parents had their eyrie on the rocky slopes of Taniquetil itself, enveloped by the steady light of the Trees and almost directly under the eyes of Manwe himself. The most daring flight she had attempted yet was straight upwards as far her wings would carry her, until the air grew thin and Varda’s stars seemed almost within reach.

Among her agemates from eyries in the Pelori, especially those from the farther slopes, she felt she had something to prove. They had convinced her they were tougher and more experienced—she took their swagger at face value. So, when their ringleader dared her to fly east all the way to Middle-earth she agreed without hesitation, although her heart sank within her a little.

Without further ado, the group of young eagles swooped out through the pass of the Calacirya and soon they were flying towards the Sea. Alqualonde lay shimmering on the shore to their left and ahead of them, a little to their right, loomed the long dark shadow that was Tol Eressea. They went on flying straight east and now there were deep waters beneath. The light emerging through the pass behind them was reflected in the crests of the waves below them, but became fainter the farther they went. Above them, the stars blazed brighter than in Valinor, but also seemed much more remote.

Ramavoite was now much farther from Valinor than she had ever been before. Never had she travelled in a space so dark and she could glimpse nothing up ahead, where Middle-earth ought to have awaited, only more and more darkness. It was overwhelming. She tried to take heart from the stars, Varda’s gift, but the tiny pinpricks of light no longer gave her a sense of surrounding space and their reflections on the roiling waters below confused her eye.

The very quality of the air seemed to change around her, out there in the middle of the Belegaer, as if suddenly she could trust it no longer to support her. Ramavoite, disoriented, began flailing and tumbling about, losing height. A couple of her companions called out to her, seeing she seemed to be in trouble and was flying dangerously low. Deaf to their cries in her panic, she did not respond or react, but somehow managed to right herself and turn around.

She could perceive the direction of the Calacirya again, far away, more by guess than true sight, and without sparing another thought began to speed back towards the familiar with all her might. She flew and flew, paying no heed to the others or anything else, and never stopped until she had reached Taniquetil. She did not seek out her family and their nest, though, but headed to a private hiding place she knew, a cleft among the crags. Exhausted in body and mind, she took shelter there and it was long before she emerged again.

Chapter End Notes

Ramavoite is an older form of an Elvish (early Quenya) word meaning "winged".