Taking place hours after the last chapter:

In the past few hours, I have learned quite a lot about my new friend Beren. He, though small in size, is skilled with a bow and sword. His father was wounded in the War of the Ring; he was suffering from many festering wounds when he was taken by fever. He held on for many days, brave man, but he traveled beyond this morning. His passing left Beren without any family, for his mother and sisters had all been taken by a fever three months before. It made perfect sense to bring Beren along with us as we sought the murderer of my own father.

"When are we to depart, Awyng?" Beren's voice cuts through my thoughts, interrupting them.

"I know not, young Beren. Why do you ask?"

"I simply wish to say goodbye to a friend of mine before we leave; it is not likely we will meet again."

"If your friend is in need of adventure and is steadfast and brave, feel free to invite him along. We will be grateful for any assistance, to be quite sure."

"Alas, my friend will not be granted permission to go; her parents would not approve of her accompanying us. She would certainly be willing to go if she were allowed, though I am afraid it is not to be."

"Forgive me; I assumed your friend was a man, which would not in any way be a problem. Myself, I would not protest if she were to accompany us, though it is against your customs. I do not understand you humans. Why can a woman not defend her family and city in battle? Indeed, it seems most foolish. I know that of the Eagles, females are by far the stronger. I would not survive if it were not for Gwyndle's superb hunting skills."

"Yes, well, you Eagles are quite different from us humans in many ways. You also enjoy the occasional dinner of Tasty Orc." Beren laughs.

"You must know that we eat orc not out of necessity but out of need. If you prefer, we could instead eat your friends and family members. Humans do taste delicious..." I feign hunger, and I step towards Beren threateningly.

"Oh!" Beren, not quite accustomed to my sharp talons, steps back.

"Don't worry, I would never eat you," I say, "We need your skills on our quest. Perhaps afterward."

Beren leaves the room laughing and I carry on packing a haversack full of rations. I was joking about eating Beren, but I am sure that he would be quite horrified to know I once did eat a man. I feel terribly about it.

Gwyndle enters and my thoughts are once again interrupted. "I just finished talking with Gandalf about your dream, Awyng," she says, "He believes that it was a true vision. The forest was Mirkwood forest near the Misty Mountains; Gandalf believes that the pulsating tree is a mark of darkness, something evil, though he does not know of it. It worries him. We are to leave at once." Gwyndle's words fill me with dread. What is so terrible? Why is Gandalf so worried? Surely our foe is not as great as the recently defeated Dark Lord. I am concerned.

The journey is going well. We have encountered no disturbances and the weather is comfortable for traveling.

"So, friend, how soon shall we be stopping for the night?" asks Beren, "I do not tire, I just worry about you. Are you well?"

"I am simply worried about the outcome of our quest. Gandalf believes my dream to be a true vision and we a traveling to Mirkwood because of it. But what if the dream was simply a nightmare, something out of my fears?"

"Well that is impossible! Awyng the Brave has no fear." Jokes Beren.

"The absence of fear is not bravery, it is stupidity. A man without fear will surely fall."

"That I know all to well..." Beren is cut off by a slight commotion behind us, where Gandalf and Gwyndle discuss plans. A horse gallops up to our small party, ridden by a small girl, no older than seventeen. She has flyaway red hair streaming behind her, and she looks wilder than her horse.

"Maron! What are you doing here?" shouts Beren.

"I am tired of town life. I fancy an adventure of two." She laughs.

"Pardon me," murmurs Gandalf, "who are you?"

"Oh! I am sorry, master Gandalf. I am Maron, a friend of Beren's from Gondor. I have decided to accompany you; I fear that Beren needs protecting, he is so young."

"Young? Last time I checked, you were considerably younger than me!"

"Do you have any skill with bow or sword? Are you able to cook or hunt?" Gwyndle interrupts their playful banter with a string of similar questions that Maron answers with ease. When she is done asking these questions, Gwyndle looks quite satisfied, and walks off in silence. Apparently, the girl is useful for the journey and quite capable of taking care of herself, or Gwyndle would have forced her to leave.

Beren looks a great deal happier than he did before, and I make sure to mention this while Maron is within earshot. Beren's ears redden and he laughs.

"Of course, she is my best friend. It is natural to feel happy. If she had not come, she would have been forced to marry and I would not be allowed to see her alone ever again. It is a wonderful turn of events.

When we stop for the night, we spread cloaks for the humans and Gandalf, and Gwyndle and I gather soft brush for bedding. We gather close to the fire, for the night is much cooler with the warmth from the sun gone. Gandalf proposes a song, and there are no protests. Maron begins to sing, her voice clear and beautiful, so different from her speaking voice. She sings a song of the Beren of old, and his love Luthien. I can sense much emotion behind her voice while she sings; it sounds strange to me for emotion is not usually present in Eagle songs. Her voice even moves my sister; she struggles to regain her composure when the song is done. She leaves to gather more wood for the fire.

Gandalf fell asleep before, though his eyes remain open even now in unceasing watchfulness. I am feeling strangely content, taking into account the events of the past few days. I feel myself drifting off to sleep as the fire dies down. Maron is already asleep now, and Beren is feigning sleep, his rhythmic breathing a little to fast to be the breath of sleep. But where is Gwyndle? She has been gone now for half of an hour. Suddenly, I hear the sound of labored breathing nearby; I am wide awake now. There is a crash in the surrounding forest and I hear a squawk that could only be my sister.

"Gandalf, wake!" I whisper urgently to the wizard, but he has already risen, staff in hand. Beren is also ready for a battle, a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. Maron has disappeared; perhaps she was frightened by the noises and took flight. I have no time to wonder or worry about Gwyndle's whereabouts, for there is sudden crash and a large pine tree falls over onto our fire. It catches alight, and I am separated from Gandalf and Beren.

I jump up and soar thirty feet in the air before looking back down at my companions. The tree is completely consumed by the flames; it illuminates the surrounding area. I see a party of at least twenty goblins spread out around Beren and Gandalf. We have been ambushed. I am consumed by a wrath unlike any other I have ever felt. I have lost my father and, quite possibly, my sister; I refuse to let my remaining friends be taken by an unknown enemy. In my furry, I dive for the nearest goblin as Gandalf releases a surge of power from his staff that sends me into the nearest tree.

I feel my grip on consciousness slipping as the world goes black around me. I hear a terrified scream of "Beren!" before I am lost to the darkness. I know nothing of the events around me.