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9
Little Songbird

Disclaimer: All places and persons belong to Professor Tolkien whom I greatly admire. This was written for the simple joy of writing. No copyright infringment intended, no money made.
Rating: General, suitable for all.
Series: none; belongs to the "Innocence" arc.
Archiving: my website and Edhellond. Everyone else: please, ask first.
Summary: Radagast watches the elfling Lindir play his flute. Double-and-a-half drabble, 242 words.
Dedication: to Mirasaui, for Edhellond's 5th anniversary.

Beta read by Jillian Baade, thanks!


~~~

The child was a true marvel in his eyes. He had seen elflings before, of course, in the Blessed Land, they visited the pastures of his Lady quite often, and they were all merry and beautiful and lovable. But this little songbird, Aiwendil found, was different. Such fairness! Such innocence!

And yet there was a hidden sorrow in those clear, blue-grey eyes of his a sorrow that would rather match a much older person, one that had seen a lot.

The wizard knew of the strange dreams that haunted the elfling's sleep from time to time, and he asked himself what might have moved Irmo and the Lady Este to burden such an innocent with them. He wished he could ask Olórin who had always been Irmo's trusted, but Olórin had not come yet, and Fate had entrusted him with the elfling's safety. 'Twas a task he had not sought after, but he accepted it, for there was great joy in it, despite his worries.

He went to the window to se what his young charge was doing. There the elfling sat, on a patch of green grass, playing his little wooden flute for the pleasure of his friends, the birds and squirrels and other small beasts. His fine, pale hair was unbound, fluttering in the soft breeze, and suddenly Aiwendil felt endless gratitude for having been entrusted with the care of something so precious and innocent.

~The End~

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