Thanks to my only reviewer, aronoiiel. You motivate me to write more, sir! Here we go.....
My shriek, caused by a terrifyingly vivid dream, wakes Gwyndle. She rises quickly and is crouching in a defensive position before she realizes the scream was uttered by me.
"What is the meaning of this, Awyng?" she yells, "We must sleep while we can, for we must leave in the morning to begin our quest. Explain yourself at once." She glares down at me, trembling with rage and the adrenaline which enabled her to rise so swiftly.
"My sincere apologies, dear sister. I was myself awakened, but by a vivid and terrible vision. I dreamt that I was Gwaihir, our honorable father. I saw, in this vision, the death of our father reenacted. It was too terrible to bear. I shouted out, against my will, and I beg you to forgive me." Gwydle's manner changes so abruptly that it would shock me if I did not know her well.
"You must relive that dream for my, little Awyng. This could be the key. We could discover the identity of Gwaihir's murderer. Tell me what happened."
"I was soaring through the air; I was flying over a dark forest, perhaps Mirkwood or Fangorn. I was Gwaihir. I heard a shriek, like one of our kind, and a dark shape plummeted out of the air. I fear that another member of our nation is dead, but I know nothing for sure. Then, a dark shape flew toward me and struck. I was injured and I fell, but I saw the attacker. At first I thought that it was Gwaihir, myself in the dream, but then I looked closer. It appeared to be Thorondor, legendary hero of Eagles from the First Age of the Sun; he was enormous and fierce. But that cannot be. He has been dead for many years; however, I have seen the likenesses of him painted in the great hall and I am not mistaken. I can only think that the murderer disguised himself somehow, or is a shape shifter." My narrative complete, I slip into silent thought, trying to ponder what this could mean. I only know that Gwaihir died at the hand of a winged beast. He fell a great distance after being injured and he could not have survived the fall, though he was always great.
"Little brother, did you notice anything in the...the dream that could help us to identify the area? Did you notice any part of the forest that was strange?"
"There was a large tree, it was shining. It was at least five feet higher than the other trees. It seemed to be pulsing, which did not seem odd to me at the time, as if I knew what it was. I forgot about it when I was attacked, and I did not remember until a moment ago. Do you know of such a tree?"
"No, but at dawn we must seek out Gandalf. He may know the meaning or the location of such a tree. Gwaihir told Gandalf things that he never told even us. He may have spoken of this to Gandalf. For right now, get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a tiring day."
Gwyndle is not in the room when I wake. I am alone, and for a moment can recall nothing of the past day. Then I remember, and I am grieved. My father is slain and there are pressing matters to attend to. I quickly make my way from my chamber to the immense hall I dined in last night. There is only one person in the room when I enter, and it is not the lord of the castle, it is indeed Beren the servant boy.
"Oh Beren, I meant to speak with you last night before you left us. I want you to know that I welcome your company and enjoyed speaking with you yesterday, brief though our encounter was. I do not wish for you to feel any shame over—Beren? What is wrong, young sir?" I see the boy slump to the floor, shaking with the intensity of his sobs. He only cries more when I try to comfort him and I am at a loss.
At that moment, a woman enters the room. She is dressed as a common village girl, but carries herself in such a way that demands respect. She walks to Beren and bends over him.
"Beren dear, please stop crying. It will be alright, you shall see." Her attention turns to me, "Could you please fetch a wet cloth to bathe his head? He is not well."
"Certainly, lady. But could you tell me what ails him? He seemed quite well yesterday when I first met him." I wonder what could cause such a transformation in a person. What has happened to the boy?
"He is physically well, but he is suffering from grief. He has learned of his father's death just a short while ago, and his mother and young siblings are gone as well. This grief is a thing that Beren should not have to experience." A tear silently courses down her round cheek. "I thank you for comforting him. He could use a good friend at this point. Please help him."
I turn to Beren as she leaves the room. He has calmed and is silently crying now. I put my wing around his back and just sit with him. I know how he feels, though Eagles do not usually partake in such displays of raw emotion. It goes against our very natures. But I sometimes wish that I could be a young human boy for once, so I could be held and comforted by a mother. I believe that Beren can help me to feel, just as I can help him to be strong.
"My father, too, has just passed." I tell him, "I believe that two fatherless sons, such as ourselves, would do well to become good friends. It matters not what your station in life is." Beren dries his tears and looks at me shakily.
"Thank you much, sir. I am very grateful for your kindness."
"In return, I believe you shall accompany my sister and me as we search for our father's murderer. I believe that you shall be a great help to us on our journey. I know you shall be great, as was the Beren of long ago."
My shriek, caused by a terrifyingly vivid dream, wakes Gwyndle. She rises quickly and is crouching in a defensive position before she realizes the scream was uttered by me.
"What is the meaning of this, Awyng?" she yells, "We must sleep while we can, for we must leave in the morning to begin our quest. Explain yourself at once." She glares down at me, trembling with rage and the adrenaline which enabled her to rise so swiftly.
"My sincere apologies, dear sister. I was myself awakened, but by a vivid and terrible vision. I dreamt that I was Gwaihir, our honorable father. I saw, in this vision, the death of our father reenacted. It was too terrible to bear. I shouted out, against my will, and I beg you to forgive me." Gwydle's manner changes so abruptly that it would shock me if I did not know her well.
"You must relive that dream for my, little Awyng. This could be the key. We could discover the identity of Gwaihir's murderer. Tell me what happened."
"I was soaring through the air; I was flying over a dark forest, perhaps Mirkwood or Fangorn. I was Gwaihir. I heard a shriek, like one of our kind, and a dark shape plummeted out of the air. I fear that another member of our nation is dead, but I know nothing for sure. Then, a dark shape flew toward me and struck. I was injured and I fell, but I saw the attacker. At first I thought that it was Gwaihir, myself in the dream, but then I looked closer. It appeared to be Thorondor, legendary hero of Eagles from the First Age of the Sun; he was enormous and fierce. But that cannot be. He has been dead for many years; however, I have seen the likenesses of him painted in the great hall and I am not mistaken. I can only think that the murderer disguised himself somehow, or is a shape shifter." My narrative complete, I slip into silent thought, trying to ponder what this could mean. I only know that Gwaihir died at the hand of a winged beast. He fell a great distance after being injured and he could not have survived the fall, though he was always great.
"Little brother, did you notice anything in the...the dream that could help us to identify the area? Did you notice any part of the forest that was strange?"
"There was a large tree, it was shining. It was at least five feet higher than the other trees. It seemed to be pulsing, which did not seem odd to me at the time, as if I knew what it was. I forgot about it when I was attacked, and I did not remember until a moment ago. Do you know of such a tree?"
"No, but at dawn we must seek out Gandalf. He may know the meaning or the location of such a tree. Gwaihir told Gandalf things that he never told even us. He may have spoken of this to Gandalf. For right now, get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a tiring day."
Gwyndle is not in the room when I wake. I am alone, and for a moment can recall nothing of the past day. Then I remember, and I am grieved. My father is slain and there are pressing matters to attend to. I quickly make my way from my chamber to the immense hall I dined in last night. There is only one person in the room when I enter, and it is not the lord of the castle, it is indeed Beren the servant boy.
"Oh Beren, I meant to speak with you last night before you left us. I want you to know that I welcome your company and enjoyed speaking with you yesterday, brief though our encounter was. I do not wish for you to feel any shame over—Beren? What is wrong, young sir?" I see the boy slump to the floor, shaking with the intensity of his sobs. He only cries more when I try to comfort him and I am at a loss.
At that moment, a woman enters the room. She is dressed as a common village girl, but carries herself in such a way that demands respect. She walks to Beren and bends over him.
"Beren dear, please stop crying. It will be alright, you shall see." Her attention turns to me, "Could you please fetch a wet cloth to bathe his head? He is not well."
"Certainly, lady. But could you tell me what ails him? He seemed quite well yesterday when I first met him." I wonder what could cause such a transformation in a person. What has happened to the boy?
"He is physically well, but he is suffering from grief. He has learned of his father's death just a short while ago, and his mother and young siblings are gone as well. This grief is a thing that Beren should not have to experience." A tear silently courses down her round cheek. "I thank you for comforting him. He could use a good friend at this point. Please help him."
I turn to Beren as she leaves the room. He has calmed and is silently crying now. I put my wing around his back and just sit with him. I know how he feels, though Eagles do not usually partake in such displays of raw emotion. It goes against our very natures. But I sometimes wish that I could be a young human boy for once, so I could be held and comforted by a mother. I believe that Beren can help me to feel, just as I can help him to be strong.
"My father, too, has just passed." I tell him, "I believe that two fatherless sons, such as ourselves, would do well to become good friends. It matters not what your station in life is." Beren dries his tears and looks at me shakily.
"Thank you much, sir. I am very grateful for your kindness."
"In return, I believe you shall accompany my sister and me as we search for our father's murderer. I believe that you shall be a great help to us on our journey. I know you shall be great, as was the Beren of long ago."