Author's Note: This took longer than I thought it would--that's what I get for bragging! My momentum came to a grinding halt, I had some betaing to do, then this dwarf person hijacked me mid-week. Anyway, I'll never promise something by Tuesday again!
The next morning dawned clear and cooler, with fluffy clouds scudding along high up in the upper airs, and casting moving, dappled shadows over the hills. A strong breeze made all the horses restless, and I had to give Caerith quite the workout before I switched to Fortune and the Prince took his brief ride. The horses certainly seemed to be enjoying the breezy weather, and to my amazement, early in the morning I saw Alagos suddenly explode into the air, all four feet off the ground. He came down twisting and hard, with a jarring thud that almost unseated Elrohir, and certainly rattled his teeth, and the next few moments after that saw my vocabulary of Sindarin invective almost doubled. Elrohir then clapped his heels into Alagos' sides, the first time I'd ever seen an Elf actually kick or hit a horse, and the two of them went charging off, Alagos giving the occasional buck.
There was some refined Elven sniggering going on, and Elladan rode up beside me with a grin.
"Did you never wonder, Snowsteel, why Elrohir borrowed my horse for you, instead of offering you his horse, and taking mine for himself?"
"It had crossed my mind," I admitted. "He did seem to be imposing upon you a bit." Elladan stroked Nimfaun's neck a bit smugly.
"The Rohirrim have a saying, I think--something to the effect of ---'As the rider, so the horse.' Which should tell you all you need to know about Alagos." Nimfaun, who actually seemed to be following the conversation, almost preened. Certainly, he turned his melting eyes upon me as if to say "See? I'm the good horse." I snorted a laugh, and reached out to caress his neck as well.
"Then glad I am to have been riding the White Cloud instead of the Storm." Elladan's eyes followed the figure of his twin, diminishing into the distance.
"Elrohir is the only one Alagos permits to ride him. Which is not surprising, since brother has been riding storms since he was small. And creating them. And looks not to be stopping any time soon." With a little smile and a wink at me, Elladan rejoined his father, grandfather and grandmother.
About a quarter of an hour later, Elrohir returned, having apparently come to some sort of accommodation with Alagos.
"There are wild kine up ahead, Grandfather!" he exclaimed. "A small herd--maybe fifteen beasts. They must have swum across the River in search of better grass. Shall we take one? There would be meat for the next two days at the very least." Lord Celeborn looked thoughtful.
"Are you certain they are not beasts belonging to the Rohirrim? We do not wish to trespass."
"Rohanian cattle do not have horns as wide as a man stands high, Grandfather. And they bear no brands, marks or notches. I have seen the wild kine of the East before--and these are like unto those." After a moment's further deliberation, Lord Celeborn nodded, and Elrohir grinned, and actually whooped, and Alagos reared. The Lord of Lorien gave orders and four other mounted archers joined him. Elladan begged off, so Elrohir gestured to me that I should accompany them as well.
"For a Mumak-slayer, this should be easy, Snowsteel." I unslung my bow from my shoulder and strung it, feeling more than a bit of anticipation. It had been long, and more than long since I'd done any hunting. One of the archers said something in a questioning tone to Elrohir, looking at me, and he responded swiftly and sharply. It seemed my participation was not universally popular.
Riding in single file, we moved out ahead of the rest of the party, and before very long, we could see the kine. My first thought was that if Lord Celeborn had been with Elrohir, he would not have had to ask about them being from the herds of Rohan. No cow I had ever seen stood as high as these, and the span of their horns was truly the width of a tall man, even more in some cases, and this was true of cow and bull alike. Their shoulders were humped, and the hump and their backs were covered with shaggy hair. They were white in color, and they looked ill-tempered and wary. They began to move away from us as they spotted us, slowly at first, then lumbering into a gallop.
We started racing after them, spreading out upon either side to keep them together.
"'Ware the horns!" Elrohir shouted as we galloped together. "They can move faster than they seem, and will swerve and gore your horse if you draw nigh!"
I called back, "Just like a Mumak!" and knocked and drew as I rode, guiding Fortune with my knees. I held my shot in case one of them should attack us, giving Elrohir the honor of the kill. It was truly exhilarating, the pounding of many sets of hooves, the bellows of the beasts and the shouts of the Elves, the feel of Fortune stretching out and truly running between my knees, the wind in my face narrowing my eyes as I watched for a shot. I found a likely victim, a young bull running to the outside of the herd, and gestured with my bow in his direction to Elrohir, indicating that I would cover for him. He shook his head.
"You take him, Snowsteel!" Nodding, I urged Fortune to go even faster, till we drew even with the young bull. In the back of my mind was the worry that I would disappoint Elrohir by not making a clean kill, and embarrass myself in front of the elves. But the habit of years of hunting calmed me, allowing me to concentrate until all the noise went away, and the only thing I was aware of was my target, charging along as if he knew what fate had in store for him. I saw my shot and took it. The arrow flew true, straight into his eye, and I was already pulling Fortune up when his legs dropped out from under him and he flipped head over heels from the force of his speed and fell, stone dead before he stopped moving.
The Elves immediately left off their pursuit of the herd, and rode back to join us. I dismounted, as did Elrohir. The archer who had protested my inclusion in the party gave me a salute with his bow, and grinning, said something in the Silvan tongue.
"He says well-shot," Elrohir interpreted for me, and smiling, I nodded back at him and told him thank-you, for I knew that much of the language after my days in Lorien. The Elves were dismounting, and drawing long knives, when suddenly, there was a darkening of the Sun and a rush of air caused by three stooping pairs of mighty wings. High indeed they must have been, circling unseen in the brightest light of the heavens, till they saw our hunt and came hurtling downward to investigate.
Fortune shied, startled by the plummeting bodies, and before I could grab his reins, galloped away back in the direction of the caravan, which could be seen in the distance. The Elven horses leapt sideways as well, but stayed their ground. One of the archers who was yet mounted knocked and drew, but held his shot when he saw what it was we faced.
The force of her descent not entirely abated, Gwenaur's talons hit the newly-killed bull with a meaty thunk, and her claws sank into the carcass. Two other Eagles, one of them Gwaihir the Windlord, the other a male I'd not yet met, landed upon either side of her. Mantling briefly, they folded their wings, then settled, looking upon me gravely.
"Greetings, nestling," said Gwaenaur solemnly. "My kill is yours." I bowed to the three of them in turn.
"Greetings, Chieftain," I greeted Gwaihir; "Greetings, Windlady," to Gwaenaur; "Greetings, Windlord," to the unknown Eagle. "My kill is yours." Gwaenaur's eyes, glowing amber, almost seemed amused as she looked the situation over.
"So it is indeed. Son of Elrond, if you hurry, you might catch the herd again before they get too far away." Surpressing a strong desire to curse, Elrohir collected all the Elves, who had been watching things unfold with great curiosity, and they mounted, and set off swiftly in pursuit of the kine once more.
"My other son, Landroval," Gwaenaur said after they had gone, introducing the unknown Eagle to me. Landroval regarded me for a moment with the typical, tilted head carriage of an inquisitive Eagle.
"Greetings, Hethlin, daughter of Halaran. You have the look of your sire, and I am very pleased to meet you." His voice was lighter than that of his brother's or even his mother's, and he seemed a more cheerful sort of bird.
"And I you, Lord Landroval, for I know you were my father's good friend."
"I was indeed, and greatly grieved was I to hear of his death. That his daughter has hunted this day heals my heart." I gave him a wry grin.
"Would you not have been happier if his son had been the hunter?" I could see the twinkle of amusement in his huge, yellow eyes.
"Even were that the case, and it is not, I would not admit it when within reach of my mother's beak," and there was a rustle as the three huge birds shifted their weight a little and laughed. Then they sobered.
"Would you be a huntress of the House of the Eagle then, Hethlin daughter of Halaran, and a nestling no longer?" Gwaenaur asked me. The question was very obviously formula, and ritual.
"I would, windlady," I replied, though I had no idea of where this was going, or what I should do. The lady Eagle gave me a kind look.
"Have you a sponsor, Hethlin? It is customary to have one stand with you for this. I know you have no kin, but is there someone else you would have?" I had just started to ponder this question, when there was the light sound of Elven horse hooves upon the chalky ground behind me, and a quiet voice spoke.
"I will stand with her," declared Lord Celeborn. "I have taken it upon me to train her gifts of the mind, so it would seem to fall to me to do this." The three Eagles nodded their heads respectfully, and Gwaihir spoke.
"Greetings, Lord of the Galadrim! Never have any of the House of the Eagle had such a sponsor before! But it is fitting, because of the long friendship between your people and ours--and perhaps a sign that better times are ahead, for Hethlin's House and for us all." Lord Celeborn dismounted, and came up behind me, and laid his long, slender hands upon my shoulders. His voice sounded tranquilly at my ear.
"I certainly hope so--otherwise, we have all been through a very great deal of bother for nothing." Once again, the rustling of feather upon feather as the Eagles laughed, then Gwaenaur addressed me in a most formal manner.
"Many, many years ago as wingless ones count such things, a Man of your house beseeched our aid, and promised his in return. Wing and eye, hand and foot; since that time, both Dunedan and Eagle have benefited from this promise. Our eyes have seen far for you, our wings brought news and succor against all hope. Your feet have traveled for us where we might not, and your hands brought aid and healing, making for us what we might not make for ourselves. Your swords and bows have defended our nests, eggs and nestlings, and with our beaks and talons, we have guarded your young. Is it your desire now to renew that pact, to leave the nest and fledge as a huntress of the House of the Eagle?"
"It is," I said quietly.
"And have you a kill for us, slain by your own hand?"
"I do." I indicated the carcass upon which she stood. "This bull, slain by one of my arrows. May it lend your wings strength, and your nestlings health and growth." Fortunately, that strange memory of what and when to say had finally begun to work for me again. Gwaenaur stepped back and off of the bull.
"Then give of your kill to us." I drew my knife, and stooped, and carved a sizable chunk from the bull's haunch, skin and all, and proffered the dripping mass to her in my two hands. A trickle of still-warm blood ran down my forearm, into the padding of my gambeson. Gwaenaur leaned far forward, and her huge beak snapped up my offering carefully. She swallowed it in one gulp, and declared, "Your kill is ours."
"My kill is yours," my inner guide prompted me to say, and I watched as her great, shearing beak dipped delicately into the bloody wound my knife had left, and worried at the carcass briefly. She lifted her head, and something made me hold my hands out. A relatively tiny piece of the meat, large enough to cover my palm, was dropped into them. I knew what was expected of me, and tried not to gag as I consumed the bloody piece. Swallowing hard a couple of times, I accomplished the task, and said what came next.
"Your kill is mine."
"Our kill is yours." Gwaenaur looked briefly at her two sons, then spoke again.
"Let Manwe, Lord of the Air, bear witness--we, the Eagles of the Hithaeglir, accept Hethlin, daughter of Halaran of the House of the Eagle as a huntress among us, renewing the bond between our Houses made in ages past. May her sword and bow guard and provide for us, may her hands heal us, may her feet go for us where we may not go. May our eyes be her eyes, our wings her messengers, and may our talons take vengeance upon those who would harm her and her own." My inner prompting bade me speak once more.
"I, Hethlin, daughter of Halaran of the House of the Eagle do swear to this oath as a huntress. May both our Houses prosper by this promise, that we may do good and not harm to each other. May Manwe, Lord of Air, bear witness to my words as well."
Gwaihir and Landroval looked upon their mother expectantly, and Gwaenaur leapt upon the carcass again, and loomed over me. I felt Lord Celeborn suddenly raise his hands to my shoulders once more, and grip tightly. Then that huge beak, which could have severed my neck as easily as I plucked the stem of a flower, lowered until the tip pressed the skin just above and between my brows. There was a careful, steadily increasing pressure, and then sharp pain as the flesh parted beneath it. I felt blood begin to trickle down my nose. Then Gwaenaur stepped back.
"She is blooded," she declared
"It is accomplished," the two males responded, then all three of them spread their wings, and let forth a loud cry. When that was over, Gwaenaur hopped over the bull, causing Lord Celeborn and I to back up hurriedly, then began waddling away from the carcass. We fell in beside her, and I tried to ignore the wet, tearing sounds as Gwaihir and Landroval began dismembering it.
"That went very well," she commented. "I had feared that we had seen the last of your House when Gwaihir brought me the news of your family's demise. It is good that it is not so. Your kill was truly impressive, and your sponsor more so. That a female should take oath so featly is very pleasing. Males can be arrogant and inconsiderate--it behooves us to remind them from time to time of where the eggs come from." Lord Celeborn raised his eyebrows at this, and I couldn't help but grin a little bit, as I carefully wiped the blood trickling down my face with a handkerchief I'd pulled from my belt pouch. Apparently, females of any sort had much the same complaints about their males.
Pausing to take up the reins of his Elven horse, who had waited patiently as he stood up with me for the ceremony, the Lord of the Galadrim resumed walking with us once more. A silvery mare, she seemed not overmuch bothered by Gwaenaur's presence and followed him docilely.
"It would appear that we have company," he noted. The Prince was riding slowly towards us upon Nimfaun, while the Lady Arwen rode her own horse close to his side.
"We saw the Eagles come, Hethlin," he said, a look of concern crossing his face, as he spied the blood. "Are you all right?"
"'Twas a ritual, Imrahil," Lord Celeborn said soothingly. "A rite of passage. Hethlin is now an adult to the Eagles. If you will excuse me--fair air to you Windlady, to you and your kin." He inclined his head once more to Gwaenaur, who did the same to him, then swung back up onto his quiet mare and headed back towards the others. The Prince's face had cleared at his explanation, though he was clutching the saddlebow tightly. He had already had his daily exercise, and this was a strain for him.
"Oh. I see. Congratulations, Hethlin." He looked intently at Gwaenaur. "And is this..."
"....the Eagle who bore you to Lothlorien? Aye, my lord, this is the Windlady Gwaenaur. She is the mother of Lord Gwaihir and Lord Landroval. You already know them, do you not?"
"I certainly do--I met them at the Morannon." He bowed as deeply as he could manage in the saddle to Gwaenaur. "But it was this lady I came to see, to tender my thanks for her efforts on my behalf recently." Gwaenaur inclined her head graciously.
"You look rather better than when I last saw you, my lord prince. Indeed, I had little expectation of ever seeing you again, much less upright and looking as well as you do."
"I take no credit for that, windlady--it was your delivery of me to Lorien and the wondrous healing skills of Lord Elrond that made it possible."
"Lord Elrond is indeed talented--he has come among our people a time or two, when we had need of him." That was news to me. I contemplated the possibility of having to fetch Lord Elrond to a sick Eagle--traveling alone in the Wild in his company, getting to know him better....my stomach, already uneasy from the raw meat, roiled a bit.
"No matter how greatly skilled he was, had you not closed the distance between us, his abilities would have gone for naught. And for that, I thank you once again, lady," said the Prince with a smile. "I only wish I had been in a condition to do so at the time." Gwaenaur seemed thoroughly charmed.
"You and Gwaihir were right, Hethlin," she said to me, "The Swan Lord is a very mannerly man." She gave Imrahil a searching examination, twisting her head around every which way. He suffered this with a small, questioning smile upon his face, which turned to surprise when she finished her survey, and asked him, "Have you a nest, my lord prince, and a mate?"
"I have a nest by the sea, which I am informed is one of the nicer ones in Gondor, windlady," he replied smoothly. "But no mate. My lady died many years ago. I have four fine nestlings though, and one of them has nested and has a nestling of his own." She nodded.
"I too have nestlings who have nested. It is a great joy, is it not? All of the pleasure, none of the continual hunting and feeding." The Prince allowed that he had found that to be the case as well. Gwaenaur fluffed her feathers a bit, and gave herself a shake.
"We mate only once, as do the Elder kindred, but I have heard that such is not the case with Men."
"No, windlady, a Man may mate again, if his mate should die, and this is true of our females as well."
"You seem a man in need of a mate to me, Prince," declared Gwaenaur. Imrahil coughed slightly. "And though your nest is far from the Hithaeglir, you have a good grasp of manners and the proper way things are done. Your nestlings are undoubtedly well-spoken as well." He owned that this was so. "I recommend Hethlin to you. She is a competent hunter, and young and strong. Your nest would be filled again in no time." The Prince gave me a swift, sympathetic look, and I reminded myself that the Eagles were unaware of my barreness..
"I believe it is Hethlin's desire to fly free for a time before she nests," he said evenly. "I understand that this must be worrisome for you, as she is the last of her House. But is it not said that the egg will hatch only in the fullness of time?"
"Indeed, it is so said, Swan Lord. You are wise as well as mannerly. Hethlin," and she was addressing me suddenly. "You could do far worse than the Prince. You have kept far worse company already."
"Surely you do not speak of the Prince Elrohir?" inquired Imrahil with an air of gentle concern that was just a bit too perfect to be believable. I gave him a glancing glare, and saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Fortunately, Gwaenaur seemed oblivious to such fine nuances--perhaps she found our faces as hard to read as we found hers.
"No, I speak of his brother, the Despoiler of one of our chieftains, Prince Elladan."
If the Prince was disappointed, he hid it well. "Of course, I should have known. In any event, I do thank you for the kind words--and the recommendation, Windlady. And I shall certainly take it under advisement." Again, that twitch of the mouth, and twinkle in the eye. Though I could tell from his stiff posture in the saddle and a certain taut quality to his face that Imrahil was fading fast, he was nonetheless enjoying himself greatly at my expense.
His weariness did not go unnoticed by the Lady Arwen. Laying a hand upon his arm, she spoke for the first time since their arrival.
"Imrahil, I think you should go back now. Father will be most angry with me if I let you tire yourself too much." He sighed, and nodded.
"Yes, I believe you may be right, my lady." He bowed to Gwaenaur again. "I have enjoyed our talk, my lady, and I sorrow that I will probably not have an opportunity to converse with you again any time soon. My nest is far from your nests." Gwaenaur nodded back respectfully, then shrugged her wings.
"The upper airs blow many places, Swan Lord. Who is to say where they may carry one on any given day? I have enjoyed having speech with you as well." The Prince looked over in the direction of the feasting Eagles.
"Please give my respects to your sons. I would do so were I able." Gwaenaur swiveled her head, looked at the Windlord and his brother and gave her beak an irritated clack.
"I shall see that the greedy louts greet you in person, Swan Lord. And they had better have left some for me." With that, she turned and made her way back to what was left of the bull with a quick hop into the air and one hard wingbeat. I fell in on the other side of the Prince from Lady Arwen, in case he should start to slide from the saddle, and began escorting him back to the party, which was waiting for the return of the hunters.
"'The egg will hatch only in the fullness of time'? 'My nestling has nested and has a nestling of his own'? How do you come up with all this....talk?" I asked the Prince, still a bit annoyed. He chuckled.
"Remember, Hethlin, I have met and spoken with Gwaihir and Landroval before, and know something of the manner of their speech. And I have always had a talent for mimicry--I will spare you the tale of my attempt to run away with a traveling troupe of players when I was fourteen." Lady Arwen's laugh pealed out, and I gave him an astonished look. Though his voice had become very dry of a sudden, he was grinning. "But I in turn have to ask how it is a child of the House of the Eagle has not heard of the egg and the manner of its hatching? Such a deficiency in your education is truly shocking." I just shook my head resignedly.
"There is no doing anything with you when you are like this, my lord. I know you well enough by now to realize that. I will be generous and blame your mood on giddiness because you are ill. Besides--my father never told me anything!" He chuckled again, and I looked at him curiously.
"Why did you want to be a player, my lord?" He leaned a little more heavily upon the pommel of the saddle and sighed.
"Have you never seen a play, Hethlin?"
"No, my lord. There wasn't a lot of entertainment to be had where I grew up."
"Well if you had, you would know that wizards aren't the only ones who can work magic." I thought this over, but couldn't quite make out what he meant by it.
"But you were going to be the Prince!" He looked a bit wistful for a moment.
"Ah, but if I'd been a player, I could have been the Prince and everyone else besides." We had come up to the horse litter, and I stood ready to give him an arm if he needed it. Arwen dismounted, ready to assist as well.
"What did your father do to you?" Nimfaun sank gracefully to the ground, I put a hand to his elbow, and aided him in stepping away from the Elven horse, whereupon Nimfaun rose, and trotted gracefully over to his master. Leaning on me a bit, the Prince sat upon the edge of the litter and swung himself into it.
"Dragged me back to Dol Amroth by the ear, of course, and spent the next year keeping a close watch upon me, and subjecting me to gentle lectures about position and responsibility. It was five years after that before he'd let a troupe play at the castle again."
"Before I was born, my brothers, it is said, tried to run away and join the Rangers when they were youngsters," Lady Arwen offered with a smile. "Of course, Glorfindel swiftly retrieved them, but even had he not, the Rangers would have brought them right back. They had troubles enough of their own without trying to deal with my brothers. Elladan and Elrohir were most upset at being apprehended." The Prince lay back against his pillows gratefully, and closed his eyes for a moment.
"I was certainly inconsolable for a long time. Though as it turned out, my gifts were not entirely wasted--in the last twenty years of sparring with Lord Denethor and the Council, I've turned in some great performances." Lady Arwen patted his hand.
"I wish I could have seen them."
"You will undoubtedly have a chance to observe future ones," he remarked, his eyes still closed. "Though the King and I have been of one mind about most issues so far, I am sure the time will come when I will have cause to try to sway his opinion about something I feel strongly about. It is a challenge I'm looking forward to." Lady Arwen's eyebrow arched at this admission of a possible future attempt to manipulate her betrothed.
"Doesn't Father usually give you a particularly noxious tonic this time of day, my lord Prince?" she inquired sweetly. The Prince groaned.
"Lady, your memory is entirely too keen."
"I will fetch it for you now." She walked off towards where her father stood beside his horse.
"Do not feel you must hasten back with it upon my account, lady--I shall willingly suffer a bit longer!" he called after her, and we heard Arwen's laugh echo back to us. He then cracked his eyes open, and crooked a finger at me. I leaned close to him, and he sat back up upon his elbow, and reached a hand up to my forehead, carefully brushing the hair back from the wound. He frowned as he peered at it.
"Lady Arwen is a good healer in her own right, Hethlin. I know that this has ritual significance, but see that you have her or Elladan clean it for you. No offense to the windlady Gwaenaur, but beaks and teeth are often filthy things."
"I will do that, my lord." He closed his hand, and his knuckles stroked my cheek softly once as he dropped it.
"That's good. You'd best run along and find out what happened to Prince Elrohir. It would seem you kept the luck of the hunt with you." I sketched him a bow, and did as he bade me. The Windlord and his brother made a short flight over to the caravan to speak to the Prince as I left.
As it turned out, Elrohir had in fact had a successful hunt, and we traveled no more that day, camping where we halted and eating fresh meat that evening, cooked with some precious firewood that we had packed with us, and some other combustibles common to an area where Rohan ran its herds. Gwaenaur and her sons wished me a friendly goodbye, and as they flew off, she let me see through her eyes and feel the sensation of the country dropping away beneath her wings, and the wash of the wind, and how it felt to fly. When I met Lord Celeborn for my lesson after supper, I thanked him for his assistance in the ritual that day, and he smiled quietly.
"The Eagles have long been our friends as well, child. Glad I was to be able to do some small thing to assist them, and you. Though for your sake, I wish your father had been present this day."
"As do I, sir," I said, blinking a little. "But perhaps he was watching."
"I would not be surprised if he were," agreed Lord Celeborn, then began my lesson with a meditation so I could calm myself.
Prince Imrahil sought his bed early that evening, for he had quite exhausted himself, but I sat up for a time, listening to the Elves trade hunting stories. And when I finally did seek my rest, I dreamed, and in my dreams I had wings.
The next morning dawned clear and cooler, with fluffy clouds scudding along high up in the upper airs, and casting moving, dappled shadows over the hills. A strong breeze made all the horses restless, and I had to give Caerith quite the workout before I switched to Fortune and the Prince took his brief ride. The horses certainly seemed to be enjoying the breezy weather, and to my amazement, early in the morning I saw Alagos suddenly explode into the air, all four feet off the ground. He came down twisting and hard, with a jarring thud that almost unseated Elrohir, and certainly rattled his teeth, and the next few moments after that saw my vocabulary of Sindarin invective almost doubled. Elrohir then clapped his heels into Alagos' sides, the first time I'd ever seen an Elf actually kick or hit a horse, and the two of them went charging off, Alagos giving the occasional buck.
There was some refined Elven sniggering going on, and Elladan rode up beside me with a grin.
"Did you never wonder, Snowsteel, why Elrohir borrowed my horse for you, instead of offering you his horse, and taking mine for himself?"
"It had crossed my mind," I admitted. "He did seem to be imposing upon you a bit." Elladan stroked Nimfaun's neck a bit smugly.
"The Rohirrim have a saying, I think--something to the effect of ---'As the rider, so the horse.' Which should tell you all you need to know about Alagos." Nimfaun, who actually seemed to be following the conversation, almost preened. Certainly, he turned his melting eyes upon me as if to say "See? I'm the good horse." I snorted a laugh, and reached out to caress his neck as well.
"Then glad I am to have been riding the White Cloud instead of the Storm." Elladan's eyes followed the figure of his twin, diminishing into the distance.
"Elrohir is the only one Alagos permits to ride him. Which is not surprising, since brother has been riding storms since he was small. And creating them. And looks not to be stopping any time soon." With a little smile and a wink at me, Elladan rejoined his father, grandfather and grandmother.
About a quarter of an hour later, Elrohir returned, having apparently come to some sort of accommodation with Alagos.
"There are wild kine up ahead, Grandfather!" he exclaimed. "A small herd--maybe fifteen beasts. They must have swum across the River in search of better grass. Shall we take one? There would be meat for the next two days at the very least." Lord Celeborn looked thoughtful.
"Are you certain they are not beasts belonging to the Rohirrim? We do not wish to trespass."
"Rohanian cattle do not have horns as wide as a man stands high, Grandfather. And they bear no brands, marks or notches. I have seen the wild kine of the East before--and these are like unto those." After a moment's further deliberation, Lord Celeborn nodded, and Elrohir grinned, and actually whooped, and Alagos reared. The Lord of Lorien gave orders and four other mounted archers joined him. Elladan begged off, so Elrohir gestured to me that I should accompany them as well.
"For a Mumak-slayer, this should be easy, Snowsteel." I unslung my bow from my shoulder and strung it, feeling more than a bit of anticipation. It had been long, and more than long since I'd done any hunting. One of the archers said something in a questioning tone to Elrohir, looking at me, and he responded swiftly and sharply. It seemed my participation was not universally popular.
Riding in single file, we moved out ahead of the rest of the party, and before very long, we could see the kine. My first thought was that if Lord Celeborn had been with Elrohir, he would not have had to ask about them being from the herds of Rohan. No cow I had ever seen stood as high as these, and the span of their horns was truly the width of a tall man, even more in some cases, and this was true of cow and bull alike. Their shoulders were humped, and the hump and their backs were covered with shaggy hair. They were white in color, and they looked ill-tempered and wary. They began to move away from us as they spotted us, slowly at first, then lumbering into a gallop.
We started racing after them, spreading out upon either side to keep them together.
"'Ware the horns!" Elrohir shouted as we galloped together. "They can move faster than they seem, and will swerve and gore your horse if you draw nigh!"
I called back, "Just like a Mumak!" and knocked and drew as I rode, guiding Fortune with my knees. I held my shot in case one of them should attack us, giving Elrohir the honor of the kill. It was truly exhilarating, the pounding of many sets of hooves, the bellows of the beasts and the shouts of the Elves, the feel of Fortune stretching out and truly running between my knees, the wind in my face narrowing my eyes as I watched for a shot. I found a likely victim, a young bull running to the outside of the herd, and gestured with my bow in his direction to Elrohir, indicating that I would cover for him. He shook his head.
"You take him, Snowsteel!" Nodding, I urged Fortune to go even faster, till we drew even with the young bull. In the back of my mind was the worry that I would disappoint Elrohir by not making a clean kill, and embarrass myself in front of the elves. But the habit of years of hunting calmed me, allowing me to concentrate until all the noise went away, and the only thing I was aware of was my target, charging along as if he knew what fate had in store for him. I saw my shot and took it. The arrow flew true, straight into his eye, and I was already pulling Fortune up when his legs dropped out from under him and he flipped head over heels from the force of his speed and fell, stone dead before he stopped moving.
The Elves immediately left off their pursuit of the herd, and rode back to join us. I dismounted, as did Elrohir. The archer who had protested my inclusion in the party gave me a salute with his bow, and grinning, said something in the Silvan tongue.
"He says well-shot," Elrohir interpreted for me, and smiling, I nodded back at him and told him thank-you, for I knew that much of the language after my days in Lorien. The Elves were dismounting, and drawing long knives, when suddenly, there was a darkening of the Sun and a rush of air caused by three stooping pairs of mighty wings. High indeed they must have been, circling unseen in the brightest light of the heavens, till they saw our hunt and came hurtling downward to investigate.
Fortune shied, startled by the plummeting bodies, and before I could grab his reins, galloped away back in the direction of the caravan, which could be seen in the distance. The Elven horses leapt sideways as well, but stayed their ground. One of the archers who was yet mounted knocked and drew, but held his shot when he saw what it was we faced.
The force of her descent not entirely abated, Gwenaur's talons hit the newly-killed bull with a meaty thunk, and her claws sank into the carcass. Two other Eagles, one of them Gwaihir the Windlord, the other a male I'd not yet met, landed upon either side of her. Mantling briefly, they folded their wings, then settled, looking upon me gravely.
"Greetings, nestling," said Gwaenaur solemnly. "My kill is yours." I bowed to the three of them in turn.
"Greetings, Chieftain," I greeted Gwaihir; "Greetings, Windlady," to Gwaenaur; "Greetings, Windlord," to the unknown Eagle. "My kill is yours." Gwaenaur's eyes, glowing amber, almost seemed amused as she looked the situation over.
"So it is indeed. Son of Elrond, if you hurry, you might catch the herd again before they get too far away." Surpressing a strong desire to curse, Elrohir collected all the Elves, who had been watching things unfold with great curiosity, and they mounted, and set off swiftly in pursuit of the kine once more.
"My other son, Landroval," Gwaenaur said after they had gone, introducing the unknown Eagle to me. Landroval regarded me for a moment with the typical, tilted head carriage of an inquisitive Eagle.
"Greetings, Hethlin, daughter of Halaran. You have the look of your sire, and I am very pleased to meet you." His voice was lighter than that of his brother's or even his mother's, and he seemed a more cheerful sort of bird.
"And I you, Lord Landroval, for I know you were my father's good friend."
"I was indeed, and greatly grieved was I to hear of his death. That his daughter has hunted this day heals my heart." I gave him a wry grin.
"Would you not have been happier if his son had been the hunter?" I could see the twinkle of amusement in his huge, yellow eyes.
"Even were that the case, and it is not, I would not admit it when within reach of my mother's beak," and there was a rustle as the three huge birds shifted their weight a little and laughed. Then they sobered.
"Would you be a huntress of the House of the Eagle then, Hethlin daughter of Halaran, and a nestling no longer?" Gwaenaur asked me. The question was very obviously formula, and ritual.
"I would, windlady," I replied, though I had no idea of where this was going, or what I should do. The lady Eagle gave me a kind look.
"Have you a sponsor, Hethlin? It is customary to have one stand with you for this. I know you have no kin, but is there someone else you would have?" I had just started to ponder this question, when there was the light sound of Elven horse hooves upon the chalky ground behind me, and a quiet voice spoke.
"I will stand with her," declared Lord Celeborn. "I have taken it upon me to train her gifts of the mind, so it would seem to fall to me to do this." The three Eagles nodded their heads respectfully, and Gwaihir spoke.
"Greetings, Lord of the Galadrim! Never have any of the House of the Eagle had such a sponsor before! But it is fitting, because of the long friendship between your people and ours--and perhaps a sign that better times are ahead, for Hethlin's House and for us all." Lord Celeborn dismounted, and came up behind me, and laid his long, slender hands upon my shoulders. His voice sounded tranquilly at my ear.
"I certainly hope so--otherwise, we have all been through a very great deal of bother for nothing." Once again, the rustling of feather upon feather as the Eagles laughed, then Gwaenaur addressed me in a most formal manner.
"Many, many years ago as wingless ones count such things, a Man of your house beseeched our aid, and promised his in return. Wing and eye, hand and foot; since that time, both Dunedan and Eagle have benefited from this promise. Our eyes have seen far for you, our wings brought news and succor against all hope. Your feet have traveled for us where we might not, and your hands brought aid and healing, making for us what we might not make for ourselves. Your swords and bows have defended our nests, eggs and nestlings, and with our beaks and talons, we have guarded your young. Is it your desire now to renew that pact, to leave the nest and fledge as a huntress of the House of the Eagle?"
"It is," I said quietly.
"And have you a kill for us, slain by your own hand?"
"I do." I indicated the carcass upon which she stood. "This bull, slain by one of my arrows. May it lend your wings strength, and your nestlings health and growth." Fortunately, that strange memory of what and when to say had finally begun to work for me again. Gwaenaur stepped back and off of the bull.
"Then give of your kill to us." I drew my knife, and stooped, and carved a sizable chunk from the bull's haunch, skin and all, and proffered the dripping mass to her in my two hands. A trickle of still-warm blood ran down my forearm, into the padding of my gambeson. Gwaenaur leaned far forward, and her huge beak snapped up my offering carefully. She swallowed it in one gulp, and declared, "Your kill is ours."
"My kill is yours," my inner guide prompted me to say, and I watched as her great, shearing beak dipped delicately into the bloody wound my knife had left, and worried at the carcass briefly. She lifted her head, and something made me hold my hands out. A relatively tiny piece of the meat, large enough to cover my palm, was dropped into them. I knew what was expected of me, and tried not to gag as I consumed the bloody piece. Swallowing hard a couple of times, I accomplished the task, and said what came next.
"Your kill is mine."
"Our kill is yours." Gwaenaur looked briefly at her two sons, then spoke again.
"Let Manwe, Lord of the Air, bear witness--we, the Eagles of the Hithaeglir, accept Hethlin, daughter of Halaran of the House of the Eagle as a huntress among us, renewing the bond between our Houses made in ages past. May her sword and bow guard and provide for us, may her hands heal us, may her feet go for us where we may not go. May our eyes be her eyes, our wings her messengers, and may our talons take vengeance upon those who would harm her and her own." My inner prompting bade me speak once more.
"I, Hethlin, daughter of Halaran of the House of the Eagle do swear to this oath as a huntress. May both our Houses prosper by this promise, that we may do good and not harm to each other. May Manwe, Lord of Air, bear witness to my words as well."
Gwaihir and Landroval looked upon their mother expectantly, and Gwaenaur leapt upon the carcass again, and loomed over me. I felt Lord Celeborn suddenly raise his hands to my shoulders once more, and grip tightly. Then that huge beak, which could have severed my neck as easily as I plucked the stem of a flower, lowered until the tip pressed the skin just above and between my brows. There was a careful, steadily increasing pressure, and then sharp pain as the flesh parted beneath it. I felt blood begin to trickle down my nose. Then Gwaenaur stepped back.
"She is blooded," she declared
"It is accomplished," the two males responded, then all three of them spread their wings, and let forth a loud cry. When that was over, Gwaenaur hopped over the bull, causing Lord Celeborn and I to back up hurriedly, then began waddling away from the carcass. We fell in beside her, and I tried to ignore the wet, tearing sounds as Gwaihir and Landroval began dismembering it.
"That went very well," she commented. "I had feared that we had seen the last of your House when Gwaihir brought me the news of your family's demise. It is good that it is not so. Your kill was truly impressive, and your sponsor more so. That a female should take oath so featly is very pleasing. Males can be arrogant and inconsiderate--it behooves us to remind them from time to time of where the eggs come from." Lord Celeborn raised his eyebrows at this, and I couldn't help but grin a little bit, as I carefully wiped the blood trickling down my face with a handkerchief I'd pulled from my belt pouch. Apparently, females of any sort had much the same complaints about their males.
Pausing to take up the reins of his Elven horse, who had waited patiently as he stood up with me for the ceremony, the Lord of the Galadrim resumed walking with us once more. A silvery mare, she seemed not overmuch bothered by Gwaenaur's presence and followed him docilely.
"It would appear that we have company," he noted. The Prince was riding slowly towards us upon Nimfaun, while the Lady Arwen rode her own horse close to his side.
"We saw the Eagles come, Hethlin," he said, a look of concern crossing his face, as he spied the blood. "Are you all right?"
"'Twas a ritual, Imrahil," Lord Celeborn said soothingly. "A rite of passage. Hethlin is now an adult to the Eagles. If you will excuse me--fair air to you Windlady, to you and your kin." He inclined his head once more to Gwaenaur, who did the same to him, then swung back up onto his quiet mare and headed back towards the others. The Prince's face had cleared at his explanation, though he was clutching the saddlebow tightly. He had already had his daily exercise, and this was a strain for him.
"Oh. I see. Congratulations, Hethlin." He looked intently at Gwaenaur. "And is this..."
"....the Eagle who bore you to Lothlorien? Aye, my lord, this is the Windlady Gwaenaur. She is the mother of Lord Gwaihir and Lord Landroval. You already know them, do you not?"
"I certainly do--I met them at the Morannon." He bowed as deeply as he could manage in the saddle to Gwaenaur. "But it was this lady I came to see, to tender my thanks for her efforts on my behalf recently." Gwaenaur inclined her head graciously.
"You look rather better than when I last saw you, my lord prince. Indeed, I had little expectation of ever seeing you again, much less upright and looking as well as you do."
"I take no credit for that, windlady--it was your delivery of me to Lorien and the wondrous healing skills of Lord Elrond that made it possible."
"Lord Elrond is indeed talented--he has come among our people a time or two, when we had need of him." That was news to me. I contemplated the possibility of having to fetch Lord Elrond to a sick Eagle--traveling alone in the Wild in his company, getting to know him better....my stomach, already uneasy from the raw meat, roiled a bit.
"No matter how greatly skilled he was, had you not closed the distance between us, his abilities would have gone for naught. And for that, I thank you once again, lady," said the Prince with a smile. "I only wish I had been in a condition to do so at the time." Gwaenaur seemed thoroughly charmed.
"You and Gwaihir were right, Hethlin," she said to me, "The Swan Lord is a very mannerly man." She gave Imrahil a searching examination, twisting her head around every which way. He suffered this with a small, questioning smile upon his face, which turned to surprise when she finished her survey, and asked him, "Have you a nest, my lord prince, and a mate?"
"I have a nest by the sea, which I am informed is one of the nicer ones in Gondor, windlady," he replied smoothly. "But no mate. My lady died many years ago. I have four fine nestlings though, and one of them has nested and has a nestling of his own." She nodded.
"I too have nestlings who have nested. It is a great joy, is it not? All of the pleasure, none of the continual hunting and feeding." The Prince allowed that he had found that to be the case as well. Gwaenaur fluffed her feathers a bit, and gave herself a shake.
"We mate only once, as do the Elder kindred, but I have heard that such is not the case with Men."
"No, windlady, a Man may mate again, if his mate should die, and this is true of our females as well."
"You seem a man in need of a mate to me, Prince," declared Gwaenaur. Imrahil coughed slightly. "And though your nest is far from the Hithaeglir, you have a good grasp of manners and the proper way things are done. Your nestlings are undoubtedly well-spoken as well." He owned that this was so. "I recommend Hethlin to you. She is a competent hunter, and young and strong. Your nest would be filled again in no time." The Prince gave me a swift, sympathetic look, and I reminded myself that the Eagles were unaware of my barreness..
"I believe it is Hethlin's desire to fly free for a time before she nests," he said evenly. "I understand that this must be worrisome for you, as she is the last of her House. But is it not said that the egg will hatch only in the fullness of time?"
"Indeed, it is so said, Swan Lord. You are wise as well as mannerly. Hethlin," and she was addressing me suddenly. "You could do far worse than the Prince. You have kept far worse company already."
"Surely you do not speak of the Prince Elrohir?" inquired Imrahil with an air of gentle concern that was just a bit too perfect to be believable. I gave him a glancing glare, and saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Fortunately, Gwaenaur seemed oblivious to such fine nuances--perhaps she found our faces as hard to read as we found hers.
"No, I speak of his brother, the Despoiler of one of our chieftains, Prince Elladan."
If the Prince was disappointed, he hid it well. "Of course, I should have known. In any event, I do thank you for the kind words--and the recommendation, Windlady. And I shall certainly take it under advisement." Again, that twitch of the mouth, and twinkle in the eye. Though I could tell from his stiff posture in the saddle and a certain taut quality to his face that Imrahil was fading fast, he was nonetheless enjoying himself greatly at my expense.
His weariness did not go unnoticed by the Lady Arwen. Laying a hand upon his arm, she spoke for the first time since their arrival.
"Imrahil, I think you should go back now. Father will be most angry with me if I let you tire yourself too much." He sighed, and nodded.
"Yes, I believe you may be right, my lady." He bowed to Gwaenaur again. "I have enjoyed our talk, my lady, and I sorrow that I will probably not have an opportunity to converse with you again any time soon. My nest is far from your nests." Gwaenaur nodded back respectfully, then shrugged her wings.
"The upper airs blow many places, Swan Lord. Who is to say where they may carry one on any given day? I have enjoyed having speech with you as well." The Prince looked over in the direction of the feasting Eagles.
"Please give my respects to your sons. I would do so were I able." Gwaenaur swiveled her head, looked at the Windlord and his brother and gave her beak an irritated clack.
"I shall see that the greedy louts greet you in person, Swan Lord. And they had better have left some for me." With that, she turned and made her way back to what was left of the bull with a quick hop into the air and one hard wingbeat. I fell in on the other side of the Prince from Lady Arwen, in case he should start to slide from the saddle, and began escorting him back to the party, which was waiting for the return of the hunters.
"'The egg will hatch only in the fullness of time'? 'My nestling has nested and has a nestling of his own'? How do you come up with all this....talk?" I asked the Prince, still a bit annoyed. He chuckled.
"Remember, Hethlin, I have met and spoken with Gwaihir and Landroval before, and know something of the manner of their speech. And I have always had a talent for mimicry--I will spare you the tale of my attempt to run away with a traveling troupe of players when I was fourteen." Lady Arwen's laugh pealed out, and I gave him an astonished look. Though his voice had become very dry of a sudden, he was grinning. "But I in turn have to ask how it is a child of the House of the Eagle has not heard of the egg and the manner of its hatching? Such a deficiency in your education is truly shocking." I just shook my head resignedly.
"There is no doing anything with you when you are like this, my lord. I know you well enough by now to realize that. I will be generous and blame your mood on giddiness because you are ill. Besides--my father never told me anything!" He chuckled again, and I looked at him curiously.
"Why did you want to be a player, my lord?" He leaned a little more heavily upon the pommel of the saddle and sighed.
"Have you never seen a play, Hethlin?"
"No, my lord. There wasn't a lot of entertainment to be had where I grew up."
"Well if you had, you would know that wizards aren't the only ones who can work magic." I thought this over, but couldn't quite make out what he meant by it.
"But you were going to be the Prince!" He looked a bit wistful for a moment.
"Ah, but if I'd been a player, I could have been the Prince and everyone else besides." We had come up to the horse litter, and I stood ready to give him an arm if he needed it. Arwen dismounted, ready to assist as well.
"What did your father do to you?" Nimfaun sank gracefully to the ground, I put a hand to his elbow, and aided him in stepping away from the Elven horse, whereupon Nimfaun rose, and trotted gracefully over to his master. Leaning on me a bit, the Prince sat upon the edge of the litter and swung himself into it.
"Dragged me back to Dol Amroth by the ear, of course, and spent the next year keeping a close watch upon me, and subjecting me to gentle lectures about position and responsibility. It was five years after that before he'd let a troupe play at the castle again."
"Before I was born, my brothers, it is said, tried to run away and join the Rangers when they were youngsters," Lady Arwen offered with a smile. "Of course, Glorfindel swiftly retrieved them, but even had he not, the Rangers would have brought them right back. They had troubles enough of their own without trying to deal with my brothers. Elladan and Elrohir were most upset at being apprehended." The Prince lay back against his pillows gratefully, and closed his eyes for a moment.
"I was certainly inconsolable for a long time. Though as it turned out, my gifts were not entirely wasted--in the last twenty years of sparring with Lord Denethor and the Council, I've turned in some great performances." Lady Arwen patted his hand.
"I wish I could have seen them."
"You will undoubtedly have a chance to observe future ones," he remarked, his eyes still closed. "Though the King and I have been of one mind about most issues so far, I am sure the time will come when I will have cause to try to sway his opinion about something I feel strongly about. It is a challenge I'm looking forward to." Lady Arwen's eyebrow arched at this admission of a possible future attempt to manipulate her betrothed.
"Doesn't Father usually give you a particularly noxious tonic this time of day, my lord Prince?" she inquired sweetly. The Prince groaned.
"Lady, your memory is entirely too keen."
"I will fetch it for you now." She walked off towards where her father stood beside his horse.
"Do not feel you must hasten back with it upon my account, lady--I shall willingly suffer a bit longer!" he called after her, and we heard Arwen's laugh echo back to us. He then cracked his eyes open, and crooked a finger at me. I leaned close to him, and he sat back up upon his elbow, and reached a hand up to my forehead, carefully brushing the hair back from the wound. He frowned as he peered at it.
"Lady Arwen is a good healer in her own right, Hethlin. I know that this has ritual significance, but see that you have her or Elladan clean it for you. No offense to the windlady Gwaenaur, but beaks and teeth are often filthy things."
"I will do that, my lord." He closed his hand, and his knuckles stroked my cheek softly once as he dropped it.
"That's good. You'd best run along and find out what happened to Prince Elrohir. It would seem you kept the luck of the hunt with you." I sketched him a bow, and did as he bade me. The Windlord and his brother made a short flight over to the caravan to speak to the Prince as I left.
As it turned out, Elrohir had in fact had a successful hunt, and we traveled no more that day, camping where we halted and eating fresh meat that evening, cooked with some precious firewood that we had packed with us, and some other combustibles common to an area where Rohan ran its herds. Gwaenaur and her sons wished me a friendly goodbye, and as they flew off, she let me see through her eyes and feel the sensation of the country dropping away beneath her wings, and the wash of the wind, and how it felt to fly. When I met Lord Celeborn for my lesson after supper, I thanked him for his assistance in the ritual that day, and he smiled quietly.
"The Eagles have long been our friends as well, child. Glad I was to be able to do some small thing to assist them, and you. Though for your sake, I wish your father had been present this day."
"As do I, sir," I said, blinking a little. "But perhaps he was watching."
"I would not be surprised if he were," agreed Lord Celeborn, then began my lesson with a meditation so I could calm myself.
Prince Imrahil sought his bed early that evening, for he had quite exhausted himself, but I sat up for a time, listening to the Elves trade hunting stories. And when I finally did seek my rest, I dreamed, and in my dreams I had wings.