The elusive saluki : an unrealistic and gothick tale

I spent two hours yesterday walking, and then running through increasingly darkening woodland in woeful pursuit of Rosie Roo, who had somehow lost me.

In the woods, where black shapes of trees stood starkly against the darkening sky, strange noises came out of the dark: most notably a vast grumbling hissing rumble which I cannot explain except by introducing a dragon.

I became convinced Rosie had somehow got into a field and had been trompled by cows, for the cows were wild and frisky and kept gallopping about madly in the manner of cows that have seen a dog and trompled it.   But Brythen assured me that all would be well.  I was covered in mud, soaking wet and well scratched by this time so it was all very hurt/comfort.

At last, we heard a terrible unearthly wailing upon the mire, which turned out to be the missing hound, who had finally looked around and realised I was no longer behind her, and therefore believed I had abandoned her.  She was very pleased to see me, when Brythen and I finally staggered out of the bushes (well, I staggered.  Brythen pranced, strong, elegant and not even muddy).

If there is a next time, I am just going straight back to the car, since clearly she has no difficulty finding her way back there on her own, and she, too, was not even particularly muddy. She stood there glowing in the moonlight like a unicorn, only prettier.

Whoever is scripting this stuff seems to have absolutely no concern for realism or indeed my dignity.

Aya Findekano!

Embiggen!

Illustration for hhimring's Song made by Rian to welcome Fingon on his visit to Hurin at Nen Lalaith.
I loved the idea of the setting: a domestic frame for Fingon, High King of the Noldor, given an edge by being placed at the very end of the years of hope before the Battle of Unnumbered Tears.

Rian is singing her song to welcome Fingon to Nen Lalaith.  Morwen is stepping forward, ready to greet the visiting Elves. Until a minute ago, Hurin was down by the stream, showing his little son Turin how to hunt for freshwater crayfish, but when they saw Fingon approaching in the distance, Morwen sent him inside to put a clean shirt on.   Huor is sitting on the steps out of shot, looking admiringly at Rian: they are not married yet.  Morwen is pregnant with her daughter Lalaith, but the bump isn't showing much yet.  

Developed from my previous pastel sketch: I decided that the amount of detail needed ruled out pastels, so this is a painting in acrylics.  The bridge is based on Chiselcombe bridge near Watersmeet in the Lyn Valley: a bridge built strangely high and airy among steep woods, because it was constructed soon after the Lynmouth floods of 1952.  I thought the Lalaith might have similar flooding issues.