Scanning the official parchment, Ruven suppressed the pride and rising flush of embarrassment on seeing his full name in print. His birthright was a great long unpronounceable thing with hyphens and apostrophes, which his friends shorten to Ruven.

Now if you have never seen an elfin blush, it is a glorious thing – a spreading sunrise of emotion precipitating a smile and infectious chuckle to manifest on any who see it. Mature elves strive to look wise and suppress this, preferring not to be laughed at, while Ruven, growing faster than his years, had not completely mastered the technique.

There it was, his Twing Certification from the Ministry of Elfin Transport.

"Having reached the age of first majority,

This certifies the bearer qualified to

pilot two-winged dragonflies

And, who may now apply for Fwing training."

Giant two winged dragonflies (the lesser D-Fly) were common in the wetlands of Middle Earth and he’d worked hard to gain proficiency riding them. Proud as he was of his achievement, his over arching passion was to join the Patrol like his father, astride the Great-Four-Wing D-fly; brilliant purple in the sun with its shimmeringly - iridescent green eyes. . .

Story by Will