Epilogue

The last few yards are still the hardest to scale. Burdened with ten hare carcasses it is less easy, but at last I manage to swing them over the top and pull myself up. On the wide ledge where I usually spread my offering of rabbits or other game there waits an old friend. His great beak is coloured like brass, and he clacks at me as I bow low before him.

"Dark elf, the fledglings you were bound to feed have this past two months left their nest to fly on their own. It is no longer necessary for you to bring food for them."

For the King of Eagles, I will lay aside my vow of silence. He knows all my secrets, and his motives are steered by Manwë who sees all. I say to him, "Then why is this ledge always clear of meat and meal when I return? Some seem still to benefit from my service."

Thorondor clacked again, his version of laughter. "Gwyen grows fat in her nest, sitting on eggs and weaving her down. Soon she will be too big to fly down and receive your gifts. Leave off your task; I release you from your geas."

I bow again to the Lord of the Eagles. "In truth this is the last trip I can make for a while. My own lord had declared that I shall be ensconced until the hatching of my own fledgling." My belly is not so great yet that it makes climbing difficult, but soon that exercise will be inadvisable.

"The wisdom of Ilúvatar escapes me," commented Thorondor as he helped himself to a hare, tearing it to pieces and swallowing the meat quickly. "That the Elf-children should be born without shells to protect them nor talons to tear their first meal! It is a wonder how you survive beyond your first days!"

"We cannot all be eagles. The eyries would crowd the mountain tops, and the skies would be black with the shadow of your wings, and rabbits would learn to use arrows and slings."

The golden eagle shook himself; a single feather flew free and drifted to rest on Fingolfin's Cairn. "No, tis better as you say, for us to be different. Go, dark elf! Bring no more rabbits for my lazy nestmate to consume! Go and tend your own nest. Do you need a ride to the valley, or have you finally learned to use that gift?"

I laugh and pick up the feather. It will make a handsome fetish to hang from the ring that adorns my ear. "No need to bother, my Lord. I have learned. Namarie!" I tuck the feather safely in my pack, and taking the edges of my cloak woven by the hen eagle, I spread my arms and let it fill with wind. Gracefully I glide from the summit of the hill far out into the Valley of Tumladin.

Thorondor's voice sounds above me as he paces my flight, "Once your have hatched your chick, see if you can bring up a nice haunch of venison!"

Looking down without fear now I see my shadow flying with eagle wings across the green plain. I soar to the ground and land lightly, waving on the eagle as he circles overhead.

The End