As we soar through the air, I know that my worries from before have been well founded. "Peace and happiness will never exist in Middle Earth. It is a hopeless cause; millions of lives were wasted in this useless war." I mutter to myself. "Ah, that is where you are wrong, little one," my sister had flown up close and heard my despondent words, "The war has ended on a splendid note; Sauron is surely gone forever and the orc armies have fled in fear. There is only our father's killer to worry us. The war was not fought in vain." Her words do nothing to quell the aching uneasiness growing inside me. There is something bigger at work here than one murderer.
When we finally arrive in Gondor, it is to find the celebrations still in full swing. Apparently, the people did not notice the disappearance of their most valiant savior. We try to learn the whereabouts of Gandalf the White, who surely will be able to help us, but the cities guards are to confused by drink to be of any help. Finally! We happen upon a young man who does not sway where he stands.
"Please, young master, could you tell us where we could find Gandalf the White?" asks Gwyndle. "It is a matter of utmost importance."
"I can take you to him. He is feasting with King Elessar and his Lady." The boy leads us down a brightly lit corridor while we convers.
"May I ask why you know his whereabouts? Surely you do not know the Lord or Lady."
"I am a servant here in the palace. I brought them their dinner not an hour ago."
"And what is your name, oh servant, so that I may praise your service in the presence your king?" I ask.
"My name is Beren." He replies, "But I am of no impressive lineage; I am not in any way related to Beren son of Barahir, the lord of the Edain. I am no hero, like he was."
"Perhaps you are destined for great things, humble sir; a great name such as Beren can only be given to a person who will grow into a hero. I expect our paths will meet again." I say. The words surprise me, but I know them to be true. This young boy will be great.
Beren leaves us at the entrance to a great hall. Though great in size, there are less than a dozen people feasting here, and the mood in the room is nothing like the rest of the city. There are more stern faces than joyful, and the tone of mumbled conversation is quite worried. As we enter, the people stop their talking and focus their attention on us.
"I am Gwyndle, daughter of the great Gwaihir, and this is my brother, Awyng. We come with urgent news and a plead for help, for Gwaihir has been slain!" My sister's voice echoes off the high arched ceiling and surrounds us. Then a man stands, which silences the murmuring people seated there.
"Indeed, I feared that something of this nature would happen. We have been struck with our defenses down and our army befuddled. Please sit, eat, and drink, and we will discuss our next course of action." The man says this in a commanding voice. His crown, silver and covered in crystallized leaves, signifies his position; he must certainly be the great King Elessar, Lord Aragorn, champion of the free peoples. I am in awe to meet such a man, though I know my father was just as powerful, brave, and steadfast. I know my sister to be this way as well.
We sit and feast in silence. When the discussions begin, I find I cannot listen, so comforted by the food. I have not slept in three days...I am jolted from my comfortable state when Gwyndle pokes me with her talon. I find the entire council is looking at me and I duck my head in an embarrassed apology.
"Yes, we forget our manners," A stunningly beautiful elf speaks this time. She must be the Lady Arwen, Aragorn's wife. "Our guests are certainly tired from there journey and their grief. Beren! Come."
Beren leads us once again down the brightly lit corridor, but this time he is much more subdued. "Young Beren, why do you walk in silence?" I ask him, "Have we insulted you in some way?"
"No sir, I simply did not realize before that you were leaders of the Eagles. I am ashamed at my rudeness from before; it was not my place to speak to you. Please forgive, I am but a foolish child."
I am shocked to think that he felt ashamed of himself for being friendly and helpful. I ponder ways to make it clear to him that I enjoy his speech, when he directs us to a chamber very much like our roosts on Taniquetil. He leaves in silence, and without a glance back. The room feels strangely like home, and I find it very easy to fall asleep here, despite our present predicament. I sleep, and I dream.
In this dream, I am soaring above a dark forest when I hear a piercing shriek. A dark shape plummets toward the ground, falling from the sky. Suddenly a dark creature, very similar to my father in physical form, attacks me and I, too, fall from the sky. I wake with a scream, shaking. I now know how my father died.