Feb 26, 2022
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.
They only hoped it was tea.
"Oh! Oh my."
Once she'd gotten over her initial surprise, she carefully began mopping up the spilt tea with a cleaning-cloth and tut-tutted. "I don't think my chamomile is a good place for you to take a bath."
