Part XVI

WHAT THE WIND BROUGHT

Gwaihir the Windlord

The shadow that then fell over Mordor was neither cold nor empty and full of cruelty. The shadow of the Windlord was cool and inviting. His wingspan was wide and expansive; the beating of those wings stirred the air and forced resilience into every particle. He had come from another land beyond this world and he brought its presence with him as he flew. Valinor was blessed with the fair beauty of the elves and within the very strands of his feathers Gwaihir seemed to permeate that grace. To the eye that below beheld this awesome sight, the magnificent creature seemed invincible even as Mordor itself. The Morgai seemed but twigs bluntly screwed into the Earth in comparison with the inescapable majesty of what flew now above. The sky was full of wings and the ears of those below full of their beating.

All eyes, but two pairs, were, for that time bent on the majestic bird, fixed with religious intensity on legendary creature that came from beyond even their own dreams. Some had now no recollection but the grey slumber of slavery in Mordor, so long had they been without of the world. For others the thunder of wings against motionless air triggered a distant memory, learned from rote in a childhood classroom. Perhaps the memory was started by an ancient picture in a heavy book, that filled the nostrils with its dust and forced sneezing. Now legend flew above them, soaring for a moment heavy and powerful, flexing its wings as though the very fibres were enough to snuff the flames of the great eye.

Legolas attention was caught, not by the sound but by the sense of grace that infused the hot smothering air that tore at his dry throat. The sense of relief was like the sliding of cool water. Grief blocked his hearing and his sight, for those senses had been given over to his friend alone and none others might claim them. But even the formidable barriers of elvish grief could not ignore the call of the blessed realm and the grace of the creatures of Illuvatar. He faltered… doubted… then raising his head slowly so as not to cause himself more pain, he lifted his eyes to the sky and believed.

Arun's realization had come before the shadow in the sky, before even the beating of wings had marred the air. Even as Legolas had taken the burden of his friend's body within his arms, straining his knees to lift him from the dejected earth, Arun had felt such joy as he had never before felt in his life. It seemed that his fatigue had flowed from his bent shoulders and he stood not within the dread land of shadow, but outside of time. He knew their situation was beyond hope and yet hope shimmered in his mind taking on dazzling hue and blinding him to all other interference.

As the beating of wings slipped nearer he stood reverently still, eyes closed and lips seemingly unmoving. He basked in the heat of his own elation; at the startling response to his own prayers that had come from nothing. It was a moment he would strive unceasingly and unsuccessfully to recreate for the rest of his life. How much a man will sacrifice for a moment of such exquisite euphoria.

Time like sand

If an onlooker had viewed the scene in that small acre of Mordor it would seem to them that time had indeed escaped, for no movement could be detected in the beings that littered the ground, eyes fastened to the heavens. The sole movement was in the rigid circling of the vast bird that searched the scene as though hunting for prey. Spying a streak of blond hair and the glistening tears of grey eyes he sensed that his search had come to an end. Taking a sudden dive, followed by the sounds of awed gasps from beneath, the wind lord made his descent and landed quietly next to the stunned elf.

Time moved forward once more with a violent shudder as life caught hold of the slaves of Mordor and threw them into a whirl of amazement. Eyes no longer gazed upon the awesome sight of this otherworldly visitor but hid in embarrassment at their own bewilderment. The scene had become too uncomfortable, too personal for them and they sensed this was a meeting in which they were not to partake; they were merely privileged spectators from another world whose reality had momentarily clashed alongside that of another. In reverent silence they made the only concession they could and removed their prying eyes.

The voice of the wind

The voice of Gwaihir was soft like the breath of wind, too soft it seemed for such a bird that might screech to deafen the cries of men.

'I am come' he breathed. So gentle he was that even Legolas believed he might have heard nothing at all. His eyes alone remained fixed in cheerless wonder upon the great eagle arrived from beyond the edges of the earth.

He understood the look in the eagle's eye, marvelled at the tears that formed therein as it beheld the man in his arms. But it was all too much. With understanding came not action but a renewed sense of such helpless fatigue that his knees failed him and he sank silently to the ground, not like a stone but like a feather from the eagle's own wing. So light were the man and the elf that they seemed but a part of the air itself. He had focused everything, each ounce of energy that flowed from his body, on finding his friend, only to discover him beyond hope. To now be faced with such brazen hope; and with aid from beyond any realm of his imagination was too much to bear. His body could not acknowledge such a conflict of emotions as now presented themselves, and it shrank from the heavy oppression of astonishment beyond expectations.

The unconscious man still in his arms, Legolas found his knees had attached themselves to the earth with no intention of rising from it. His eyes alone did not fall to the biting earth but searched the weeping eyes of the eagle for the truth of the mirage that stood before him. It was not possible, his mind claimed aimlessly; perhaps this vision from paradise was just another incarnation of the evil of Mordor. 'Sauron the deceiver' they called him did they not. Perhaps this was a cruel game, the most brutal trick that he could have played; a mere amusement before he seized his ultimate victory and took two lives instead of one.

His eyes were sore from the effort of holding them open so long in disbelief but he feared to close them; that his hope might disappear. Life forced the choice upon him, his body acting where his mind did not wish. Blinking, he found that his field of vision had not changed. The Windlord stood yet before him, weeping still, as though his tears alone might heal the hurt of the many that had been enslaved.

With a soaring sweep of his mottled head the eagle surveyed the scene, the devastation of the empty ground and the black pits like dark eyes that watched threatening the majesty of the dark lord in this place at all times. He saw the shells of men scattered across the Earth like bones from a shipwreck. All had been thrown here by chance. His heart overflowed with pity for the lives of these men, although their paths had never before crossed. Turning his great neck back toward the elf his soft voice like butter whispered.

'It is time'.

It is time

Once again it seemed that Legolas body moved without the input of conscious thought. His knees lost their feeling of lead and were able to raise themselves once more. Taking sluggish steps, (his mind still struggled with the path his feet would take) he gently lifted himself from the gnawing earth and made toward the eagle. He had no expectations of what might follow only an automatic desire to follow the light offered by the eagle.

On reaching the eagle, reality and guilt hit the elf as a club from a goblin. So shattered had his mind been by his own grief, so consuming, that all else had been forgot. Now, his eyes led his aching heart to survey the land around him. It was so grey, so dense with dust that his throat hurt from the mere thought. The monotony was only broken by the brown hint of a man, watching the great eagle with covert fear. Bent they seemed and so frail in comparison to the life force that now stood in Mordor that Legolas believed that they instead might be part of Sauron's mirage. Taking in the suffering on their faces, the ache of wrinkles sprung too young, the mournful downturn of their eyes, his knees nearly gave way once more. He read in their faces what he must have read in Estel's should his eyes have been open and alert.

Only the touch of a wing brushing against his forehead brought him back to the question of leaving. Frantically he remembered the man in his arms; his sole purpose in Mordor. Fingers hurried to the man's neck desperately searching out a pulse. He waited body tensed in anxiety, he thought he felt nothing, believed that life had filtered away. Then a fluttering under his fingers; the tension subsided and he felt flaccid once more.

'Come,' the Windlord commanded. His voice was soft, but demanding now and Legolas realized that his time for waiting was over. For a second he brimmed with hope at the thought of leaving Mordor, of being beyond the gate. But remembering the weight within his arms hope turned to fear and pain once more.

Arun! He had forgotten the boy? How could he? After all they had seen together. In the midst of so much wonder and pain the thought of his companion seemed to have fallen from his head. Now it returned with frightening intensity. He could not leave him stranded within this desolate country, not after he had fought so hard to protect him from it.

It took another gentle touch of a wing feather to focus his attention once more. There was so much grief inside his soul that he found it increasingly impossible to exert himself, only the warming touch of the feathers seemed to offer him the possibility of relief.

'Do not burden your mind any longer with thoughts of their safety. The Valar do not concern themselves with the world of men; but for his sake and for the sake of the prayer for his life they will not be lost to the wrath of Sauron. My brother,' he motioned to the sky and to a circling shadow in the lengthening darkness, 'will lead them to safety beyond the gate. For Sauron is not yet so strong that he shall not fear the wrath of the Valar.'

A motion around his shoulder caused Legolas attention to be lost for a moment. So gentle he thought it might have been a fly that had landed upon him. It was a hand. A hand barely devoid of boyhood but that would grow broader and thicker given time. It was the hand of the boy who had followed him beyond fear to find what he sought.

Motioning to the bird, Arun coaxed gently.

'You must go, for this is the answer to all our prayers. I accompanied you to save him, now you have your chance and I would not for all the kingdoms of the world rob it from you. I trust to the mercy that has been brought upon us, and I believe I shall lead these people from this land of slavery, Valar willing.'

His words were stalwart, full of adult understanding and nobility, as though he had reached the peak of wisdom and could not go beyond. Legolas trained his eye with pride and admiration on this youth who had grown so much in such a time. Great things should be expected of this one. He was right, today was not the day they should be lost to Mordor.

'We shall meet again son of Hellian,' the words flowed from the elf's mouth and at once he was certain of their truth.

'We have passed a dangerous path together and you have proved yourself to be faithful in every way. None other but one has shown greater strength and loyalty to me than you. Go now in peace and regain the comfort of your family. Send word to Rivendell of your safe return and you shall not be far from my thoughts.'

Arun did not reply but reached out and touched the elf's shoulder, offering a final act of condolence and reassurance before the long miles that were to separate them.

With a swish, and in one stunning motion the gnarled claws, giant, overpowering, lifted the elf from the ground. Legolas clung to the leathery skin and pulled himself upward still cradling the man in his arms. Settling eventually between the great feathers, so large they might have been his own bed cover, he nestled between the comforting softness and Gwaihir began to gather height.

End of Part XVI