[Imladris]

Lira leaned against the back of a tree and closed her eyes letting the sunlight dance upon her closed lids. Colours appeared unbidden: greens and blues smeared together and a delicate pink tiptoed softly across the road they had made, before swiftly vanishing. A blob of black dropped malignantly from above, only to be fiercely driven down by vying violets. Doleful browns covered everything with their plain dreariness and --- the racous cawing of a crow caused Lira's eyes to fly open and scan the sky eagerly for the sabled bird.

Rising to her feet, her dress (damp from the dew) clinging to her legs, she shaded her eyes and finally saw him come winging towards her, his black wings glittering in all their glory as they flashed against the sun. Lira held out her hand and slightly winced as his sharp claws dug into her flesh as he steadied himself.

The Raven's feathers were windstrewn and, being the vain fellow that he was, he instantly began to run his beak hastily through his feathers, setting them to rights. He glanced once or twice in her direction, his beady eyes sparkling merrily with mischief.

Lira smiled at him, delighted, and petted him softly upon his bony head with a delicate finger. Then she noticed the bit of parchment that was tied to his leg. Frowning, she untied the leather string and let it drop to the ground. Flowing writing was written across the paper which read:

My dear Lira,

This is Corn. Of course only a raven with so ridiculous of a name could only have been named from your father. Since he was the one who found it injured and dying in the corn field he insisted on naming (which I just admit is only fair) but Corn is such a queer name for such a magnificent bird.

We are well here and in the north, though we are swiftly departing it for the Grey Havens. I am glad, too, because the cold and wet is so uncomfortable and there are rumours of ruffians about...

Namarie with my love,

Mother

Frowning, Lira folded the piece of paper carefully and slipped it into her pocket. The bright sparkle of fun had departed from Corn's eye and a morose expression had taken it's place. "She's not telling me something," she whispered to Corn who decided to retain a state of feigned innocence and commenced his preening. "She's too cheerful," she decided, "and she's never minded the cold and damp before." Corn hopped onto her shoulder and began to quietly nibble her ear.

[ October 10, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]