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Gift of the Eyries (Three Horses and an Ass TP)

Tags: Gwendion,  Sulgirion

Short Summary: The Eagle, Sulgirion, gives a special token to the Knight, Gwendion.
Date (real-life): 2009-12-30
Scene Location: Imladris, Meadow
============== Lord of the Rings Calendar <in English> ==============
IC time is:    Late Afternoon < About 6:45 PM >
IC day is:     Tuesday
IC date is:    October 25
Moon phase:    New  <NOT VISIBLE>
Earendil:      Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is:    Third Age 3048
RL time:        Wed Dec 30 12:55:07 2009

Open Meadow - Crossroads
This is a broad meadow, carpeted with grass. A huge oak stands in the midst of the meadow, a path passing close under its branches. The old oak looks like a pleasant place to pause and rest. The path itself is hard packed earth, clear of stones. Off to the north the meadow merges into fertile fields and pastures, and to there a path branches off from the east-west way. To the south is the House, and southwest is the bridge. In the west a stand of birches grow on the slopes before the cliffs. The greens of summer give way to the flame colours of fall, as leaves turn brown or gold or orange or red. The meadow around the ancient oak is covered with leaves of all colours as the tree prepares for the coming winter. The forests to the north is no longer a mountain of green, now it is a billowing flame of all colours, and the silver birches to the west have become golden clouds resting atop silver posts.

Huge Oak
Obvious exits:
 North leads to Pasture.
 East leads to Open Meadow - Valley Path.
 South leads to Front Yard.
 West leads to Meadow Path.

The light of the afternoon sun glints off of a canopy of fire: in the midst of the meadow there looms an enormous oak tree of incredible girth and height. Its leaves have begun to fall in the deepening autumn, but many yet adorn its mighty boughs. Nestled in this bed of oranges and reds sits another gigantic figure, its brown and gold feathers lost a little in the blending flashes of colors. The oak is great indeed to house such a large dweller of the sky, and upon one of its thick and sturdy branches roosts Sulgirion. The eagle clings there with its talons, seeming to be content in resting in the warmth of the sun while the pretty elven music dances upon the breeze from the direction of the House.


Gwendion casually strolls down the hard packed path leading from the House, lost in reverie. Every few steps a stone is tossed from his hand into the meadows, his pockets seemingly having an endless supply of the things.

He seems surprised then when confronted with the oak, as if it had crossed his path and not visa versa.

"You have been grown clearly only but to break my stride, old timer. There will be a reckoning for this," he says with faux anger, joking to himself.

Thud, thud. The soft sounds of the stones connecting to earth are faintly heard muffled in the grass, and soon the great bird's head cants to the side observing as the human comes within view. Though he is concealed slightly in the craddle of oak foliage, the stretching boughs do not hinder the keen-eyed gaze. A new noise arises to be heard over the strikes of the rocks, and it would seem a sort of avian chuckle.

"I would have thought even your race has been taught to respect your elders." For a moment the voice might seem to come out of nowhere, but then Sulgirion shifts sideways on his perch so as to better come within sight of the Knight below. "Good day, Master Gwendion."



The Knight stumbles back a few steps, scanning the limbs until finding the Eagle, "That is twice in as many days I have been startled by losing myself to my thoughts. It is a poor trend I seem to be developing."

"As for respect, aye, we have it. Though that does not stop me from thinking my mother annoying when she hounds me about a wife," he grins to the bird a moment, then walks to the trunk, running his hands over it, searching.

"And you, Master Sulgirion, enjoying your day thus far?"

While the eagle's beak remains stiff and unable to convey expression, the bright eyes appear to indicate a smile. "Love among human-folk is a curious thing, as far as I have observed," remarks Sulgirion.

"As for the day, yes I find it fair, though all days are such in this Valley." There is a silence during which the bird fixes its unblinking star upon the lower man. Perhaps the Gondorian is not alone this eve in dwelling on musings of the mind.

"There is something I must do, if you are free for the moment," the hooked mouth opens again at length. "I have waited long enough, and my heart will not be satisfied until I carry it out. Stay a moment if you can, I must ask; your presence is required." The grin-like gleam returns for an instant at the last words.


With a loud, "Ah ha!" his search has ended and he lifts himself onto the trunk of the great tree, slowly pulling himself up to the first branch and then on, slowly making his way up the tree.

"My presence will be with your shortly!" he says between heavy breaths and grunts as he makes his accent. "It is well there are none of the elves about. Surely they would laugh at this scene of dexterity."

True that there are no elves nearby, but Gwendion still has one member of an audience: and it is with a slightly difficult effort that Sulgirion stiffles another chuckle at the suddeness with which the man ascends in the huge oak. Surely, the eagle wasn't expecting this spectacle!

"If I did not know better, I might perhaps mistake you for a squirrel," the avian says at last, a faint laugh escaping. "Are you searching for something in the branches? If you wish to join me, it might have been easier for me to do the honors and meet you upon the ground. Not as difficult for me, you see..do you want assistance?" The gold head cocks the other way then, to watch. "I shall try not to pinch."


"That, my friend, is a thing lost to your people. You take the skies for granted," Gwendion says, then squawks himself as his hand slips, and he wraps himself round a branch to keep from falling.

He laughs, unexpectedly, "When the skies are so difficult to achieve, it makes the arrival so much the sweeter." He reorients himself and soon is again climbing. While for elf or eagle, his movements are lumbering and slow but for a man, he is quick and agile and soon enough, his fingers wrap round a large bough opposite the eagle. He pulls himself up, sweat beading on his brow, and looks out over the valley.

"Ah, see you are sitting and enjoying this view whereas I..." his voice quiets, "Will never see it again in this lifetime."

"You speak in truth, my friend," nods Sulgirion as the Knight claims his seat before him, "hardship makes the end goal worth the trouble and toil."

Then, the gaze turns to regard the fields, trees, and magnificent sights of the elf-haven. "How can you judge that?" answers the eagle after a pause. "Only the One knows what is to come before the end. Verily, your people rarely come here..still, even if you do not return hither, you must be glad to have laid eyes upon it in your lifetime."

The brief interlude of quietness is mirrored by the avian, ere he continues. "In either case, your heart has made it possible for you to be here. Neither would I be sitting beside you without it." If the words are mysterious, Sulgirion does not say much to elaborate on them for the second, explaining only: "It is thus I wished to speak with you about. I wait for your leave to begin, Master Knight."


The words pique the interest of the Knight and he slides back towards the trunk of the great tree, resting his back against it, "If your words are such that they require my leave to speak them, then hesitate no more. It is given."

"I fear I must recall your mind to a dark and uncomforting memory," says the other. "That day in the bowels of the troll-den; your company came to my aid when all hope seemed lost--surely I did not expect them to do such a reckless thing!" The great eagle seems angry for a passing minute, but then the feathers on his crown lower from their traces of agitation. "Stubborn, and foolish," comes the voice again, "but brave nevertheless. If it had not been for you, their efforts would have been in vain. No doubt, that fell place would have become the tomb of us all.

"You alone stayed behind to fight the torog, and willingly at that. I will not forget it--I should not be alive right now. In return, in the ways of my winged race, I wish to bestow upon you a token of my thanks; but listen well, for it is not a common thing for one of us to gift, and it is not to be taken lightly."

The eyes turn a little stern as this is spoken, emphasizing the last statement. Then, slowly the large golden head dips toward Sulgirion's side. Grasping a feather with his beak, the brown-gold thing is pulled out, and the eagle holds his beak outward so that the human can take the feather. It is not a primary, but large enough to be near the size of a normal man's forearm.


"I...I," Gwendion reaches out and takes the feather, "Certainly, I cannot know the ways of your race. But," he runs a finger over the thing, awestruck, "I can do naught but take your words to heart and honor your gift as you have requested."

His smile is true, unconscious, as he looks back to the eagle, "Though, it seems not fair for our thanks for you seems so much the greater and I am without gift for your efforts so very much appreciated."

"When a man befriends one of stories, of myth and legend, and is honored so, what can he say but," here there is a pause, "Thank you. It is now my most prized possession."

"That is good" nods Sulgirion. "A prized possession you would be careful not to lose. The same care must be taken with this gift. With this feather I grant you the title of 'Eagle-friend', and in turn with this name comes the promise of the protection of the sky-sailers. You must wear this symbol, so that all of my brethren may see it and know you to be a special ally. But I warn you also: do not misplace it. For if you lose it, so do you lose the title that accompanies the feather. While you are under our guard in times of need, so too are you bound now to the eyries. We may call upon you in request for aid, and when possible we will expect you to honor our behest." The head dips anew. "Our 'thank yous' are now even, I believe."

The raptor's gaze reverts toward its peering outward over the sceneic view past Gwendion, but the eagle's eyes do not see it: thoughtful and distant his look seems as he lets the words fade.


Indeed, after a time of contemplation of the feather, the man sets his gaze afar and there the pair sit in silence.

Date added: 2010-01-01 13:39:18    Hits: 88
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