The sun was level with the horizon, bathing the Lonely Mountain in an orange-red haze. Below, the braziers and fires in Dale were alight, and men, dwarves, and elves milled about in the large space. Two eaglets rested together in the nest, waiting for their father to bring them food. Their mother gazed at the last speckled egg, anxiously awaiting for it to hatch, for her last eaglet to enter Arda. The egg twitched, a testimony that the body inside was not still born, a fact that was known until a mere day ago. Right before she was about to toss it over the side of the mountain, she sensed the eaglet's living presence. The egg twitched as the body inside it stirred. She had not touched it since, and both Mother and Father did not understand.
When she laid the egg, the body inside it had been still born.
The chick broke free from the tough shell, and gave it's first weak cry. Father finally arrived to the edge of the cliff, a limp, bloody deer in his massive beak. The older chicks began to screech excitedly. Mother cast a long glace at the young chick. It - she - lay on her side gasping. Her pale yellow eyes were half shut. Mother turned away. The first test of survival for every eagle was to survive the leaving of the egg with no assistance. There was a shuddering sigh, then silence. Mother shifted her feet as she watched the sun set.
Many eaglets had come and gone, but there were few that didn't survive. The Lord of the Air gives and takes - Mother knew this, but the passing of her own young never failed to move her, and always gave reason to grieve. Father looked at her, a curious glint in his eyes, but then gave a quiet chirp. His feathers puffed up in surprise, and the mother turned to see the little eaglet stagger towards the deer. The eaglet hungrily tore into the carcass. All was well until she came close to where the eldest eaglet was eating. The eldest squawked in protest in this breach of territory. She flapped in her wings as a sign of warning. Clearly, she enjoyed her position as oldest and strongest.
There was a pause. Pleased with herself, the eldest bent down to resume eating. There was a sharp inhale, and the youngest let out the loudest, piercing shriek Mother had ever heard. The youngest pounced upon the eldest's "territory" and snapped up a choice morsel of meat. The eldest and middle were startled at the outburst, but bothered the youngest no more as they ate.
Strength was critical in the world of the eagle. The weak had no place in it; only the strong survived. While the youngest had passed the first test, but there would be more times to prove her strength.