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“That was the shittiest hunt we have ever had!” Tyelkormo threw his bow on the ground.
Írissë shook her head and put away her dagger as she kicked a rock. “You would think we could at least have managed a few rabbits or some squirrels.”
“There is always next time,” Makalaurë said, but he, too, looked disappointed. He looked at Maitimo, who only shrugged.
“We should have brought food,” bemoaned Findekáno. “Now we have to travel all the way back–”
“Back to Tirion?” Inglor motioned in the opposite direction. “We are nearly to the shores–come with me to Alqualondë!”
“Why? Who will let us in and feed us at such an hour?” asked Tyelkormo.
“All of them and any of them,” said Inglor. “Come–you will see. My mother’s people will be on their ships or on the shores, singing and dancing, and there will be food– you will see!”
“Sounds unlikely, but at least we could get in a swim and a bath,” Tyelkormo said. “I would love to get out of this hunting gear. Swimming naked under the stars is a treat we cannot partake in when we are in Tirion, under the scrutiny of grandfather’s minions.”
“Not with my sister along,” Findekáno warned.
“Food first. Fighting later,” Maitimo cautioned.
To the sea they went, and just as was promised, the hunting party was welcomed with open arms and without questions. Bowls of shelled mollusks and shrimp were shared around, and the wine flowed freely among them. Only Maitimo and Findekáno decided to swim, out in the shallows and around an inlet away from the others, who partook in song and even some dancing before they took their leave. And even now, most of them still count it as the best hunting trip they had together.