Birdkórë

There is a clamour from above – hurried scrambling; the patter of uneven footfalls. Then, suddenly following a sharp scraping, an eerie silence. Melkórë, still trapped in the form of a tiny bird, had finally resurfaced and launched themself with practiced aim from a high shelf, or a hole they had worked through the ceiling, it may be worth investigation later before the rains come, and, with a sloppy ‘plop’, directly into the full cup on the elf maiden’s table.

No immediate answer was voiced though the bird ducked down marginally upon being acknowledged and glowered at their sibling for they had grown comfortably used to running amok, unsupervised, and with little interruption. Fortunately what came with the absence was a significant lack of, well, things to torment. They focused their energies on chipping away at the inside of the walls and floorboards, having only recently found something to hoard. In spite of this they, mysteriously, had found plenty supply with which to keep their body round.