The IRE of Winter

[ 3.2 ]

...

Quickly, I regained balance after a near fall, flapping my wings vigorously and glided to let the wind carry me up and down. I hovered the trees, touching the leaves with the tips of my wings.

Flight is freedom!

The sky is limitless, I can move around without worrying to wreck myself onto something.

This is what it is to be winged, I chanted the words in my mind! I flapped my wings to lift myself up, the wind blew me farther upward, then glided down in a circling motion. I roamed, eyeing for any movements below me. I saw the old man, his white robe shimmered like magical cloth bedecked with thousands of miniature gems, white gems.

Four pairs of eyes followed me as I take another turn.

It's funny that at some distance, everything seemed so small. My humble heart became incredibly boastful. Being atop of something made me feel invincible, like a dragon, I would flood my enemies with fire. Roar like thunder!

How I wish there were dragons still living to this day. Smaug was the last, and the beast had a shameful end of being killed single handedly by a human.

Down, no other souls were on the area, we were safe to camp for the night. I turned to view the distance, to the mountains and valleys and the patched marshlands.
Raven's eyes were not as sharp as I thought. Over there, East, light flashed like lightning coming from the smoky mountains, and even with these flawed vision, I am certain it was not coming from the sky. A wave of what seemed to be flames spread horizontally as if the mountain was blowing fire on its own.

I wished ravens had colored vision, it would surely be an astounding sight.

I glided back to the camp, there was nothing else to see. Gandalf must be worried, I ventured far and besides, I'm not good at scouting. I'm afraid of getting lost.

The river below wriggled like a serpent. It was getting dark and it was time to go back. I closed my eyes and let go, it was as easy as always. And as I hopped back into my own being. Panting, I decided to keep quite for a moment. Eavesdropping is not my habit but I can't help but to know what they were talking about behind my back.

'You thought she's the one?' Gimli spoke. I knew his voice so well, he was the only one with a rough loud voice that becomes more irritating when he's grouchy. 'Poor soul, she's doing quite good hiding herself.'

'She was weak,' Legolas butted in. 'The fear in her eyes was so strong I can almost smell it.'

I winced.

It would be too assuming of him to think I am weak. I cringed my nose, pressing my lips to hold my temper. Why am I so affected with such heavy remarks from someone who considered me a lesser being? Perhaps, I am not accustomed to unfriendliness, yet, no matter how I convinced myself that it was just a heedless presumption, the thought pinched my heart in the most painful way.

'What made you hate her that much? She was...just....' Aramis murmured the last words and I did not hear the rest.

'Filthy vaurg. I hope she preyed on a hideous, twisted Orc.'

'Spare her with the least of respect, for Durin's sake,' Gandalf concluded. I imagined him holding his wooden pipe puffing smoke rings, Legolas standing still, Aramis and Rod sitting around the fire while Gimli drinks his wine-flask. I heard Gimli chortled and it made me feel even worse.