It was an ugly creature, to any who looked upon it with only their eyes. Large and ill-proportioned, with the body of an insect and the face of a demon, there was nothing of grace or beauty suggested in its appearance as the powerful flapping of its ungainly wings sent the Elvoret lurching through the air, making its way to the top of the abandoned communications tower. No one in the town below was awake, not that anyone would have looked up to see the large shape silohuetted against the lightening sky; no one had come to the tower for over a decade now, not even maintenance crews. Most did not even remember what the tower had once been - to them, the obsolete construct was simply part of the landscape.

     Regardless, the Elvoret made his pilgrimage every morning as the sky grew light. Unlike them, he remembered when the tower had held much more significance, and every day, the creature's simple mind told him to return, in hopes that she might have come back again.

     When the tower had been in operation, it had been used to send and receive simple, mundane things. News reports, sporting events, the occasional talk show. There was nothing unusual about the tower, certainly, and even those who had constructed it regarded it as a useful technological tool.

     To the Elvoret, however, it had become much more. Naturally sensitive to vibrations in the air, the creature's brain was able to decipher the high-frequency waves, allowing him to hear what was being broadcast as easily as any human with a receiver might - not that he could comprehend exactly what was happening. At first, the signals had startled him as he rested by day in the forest some distance away - he did not understand human speech, and in fact was not overly fond of the small, noisy creatures who occasionally tried to hunt him and his kind. The sound of their voices in his head irritated him to no end; even deep into the night, their jabbering and laughing persisted, preventing him from hearing the rustling of the small creatures he fed upon. Hungry, tired, and nearly driven mad by the incessant noise, the Elvoret had finally flown off towards its source just before dawn that morning, thinking to destroy it.

     He might have done so, or died trying, if not for her.

     Nearing the tower, the sounds intensified, filling the Elvoret's head until he thought it would burst open. Roaring in pain, he dove towards the large dish at the center of the clamoring - and stopped short as the irritating sound of human speech was replaced abruptly by a slow, haunting melody.

     This could not be a human, the creature thought, though he had heard nothing but the sound of humans from the tower ever since it had begun its broadcasts, and there were still similarities. But this voice was soft, sweet, and entirely pleasant - everything humans were not. The sound was unlike anything the Elvoret had heard before, and had he been capable of more complex thought, or even aware of what the word meant, he would have considered the source of this voice to be a goddess.

     Whatever it was, the Elvoret savored every tone, every breathy utterance. Settling himself down upon the rocks nearby, he felt his rage drain away as the music played. When the last notes of her song had rung out, the faint, unobtrusive sound of static engulfed him, and the Elvoret drifted off to sleep.

     He'd awoken the next evening to the now-familiar sounds of human speech, much to his dismay. The goddess had departed, so it seemed. Perhaps she had gone elsewhere? The Elvoret wasted no time before going to look for her - the humans' babbling was loud, so close to the tower, and he did not wish to remain there any longer than he had to.

     All night he searched for her, but heard no trace of her voice no matter where he flew, even to the ends of the mountain range and over the ocean beyond. The clamor of voices was still present no matter where he went, frustrating him to no end. How could he find her amidst all the noise? In despair, he turned to go back to his usual haunts.

     As the sun began to rise over the sea, turning the early morning clouds golden and casting a rosy sheen across the waves, the voice he longed to hear once more replaced the humans' chattering with her lovely song. With all his strength, the Elvoret flew towards the tower where he had first encountered her, and came within sight of the large dish at the top just as the melody halted. Once again, she granted him relief from the voices that so bothered him, replacing it with the peaceful, rushing silence.

     The Elvoret no longer strayed far from the tower after that day. The noise, the obnoxious laughter and babbling - she could take it away. And every morning as the sun rose over the ocean, she blessed him again with her peculiar brand of silence, allowing him to drift into a restful sleep.

     Months went by, and then years. The Elvoret was a creature little more advanced than the insects he resembled, despite the complicated magics that had given him and his kind birth in generations past, and he did not change with the passing of time. Once he formed a habit, it stayed with him until something forced him to abandon it - and even his rudimentary mind would not have let go of something so precious as his goddess without a considerable struggle. Through the years, he had come to know her song so well that he felt he knew her.

     A picture of what the owner of that voice must look like had even taken form within him; he could see her with increasing clarity each time she sang to him. Sitting upon a rocky spire above the crashing waves of the ocean at dawn, she appeared to him as a creature that somewhat resembled a human, but was not. She was covered only by her wings - not wings like his, jagged and fearsome, but delicate feathered wings of gold tipped with violet, softly unfolding from atop her head and her shoulders. Wondrous golden hair adorned her, tipped with the same jade-green as the instrument in her hands - an instrument nearly as graceful as she was. The strings rippled as her hands ran gently across them, mingling with her voice as she sang her song, driving the incessant noise of the humans away from him morning after morning as the Elvoret hovered at the top of the tower, waiting for her arrival.

     After a time, it seemed to the Elvoret that it had always been that way, and he was certain it always would be. Therefore, when he woke one day to the silence she granted rather than the human speech that was usual at that hour, he was not troubled. She'd extended her gift to him for longer than usual, that was all. After he had hunted and fed, the creature returned to the top of the tower to wait for her.

     The sky grew light, hurting the Elvoret's eyes with the unaccustomed brightness, and still she had not come.

     He remained all day, resting even within the great dish itself when his wings grew tired, but heard nothing.

     This should not be, the Elvoret thought. She cared for him, she gave him peace - she would not have left him. Certainly she would return the next day at dawn, as she always did. But when the sun had risen that morning, and the next and the next, her song was still absent.

     The Elvoret was bewildered. What could have happened to her, that she would not come to him? The daily and nightly clamor of the humans' speech did not return either, but even that was a small comfort when compared to the beauty the Elvoret had found and lost. It was not only for the silence that he worshipped her, but the gentle kindness, the assurance and stability she offered. She had come to him every morning for as long as his limited mind could recall; it was unlike her to leave him alone.

     And so he remained in the area surrounding the tower for the years following, though the mountains did not offer as much in the way of hunting as the plains or forest did. Surely she would return soon - any day could be the day her voice rang out to him again, and he would be there, waiting to adore her. Though she repeatedly failed to appear, the shimmering of the early morning sunlight on the ocean inspired thoughts of her, and the Elvoret found that he could recall her voice and the notes of her instrument with increasing clarity.