December 9 - 16 singing eagles
3. Jubilate Deo - by Raksha
JUBILATE DEO (song verses by JRRT from ROTK)
I had thought that nothing more could be lacking in the sudden surge of sunlit warmth and hope that sprang up in the wake of the Shadow's departure. Then a great golden Eagle flew out of time-lost legends and circled the City walls. And it sang!
Sing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor,
for the Realm of Sauron is ended for ever,
and the Dark Tower is thrown down.
The Eagle did not scream the words. A voice like unto that of Men issued from its beak, the words ringing like bells in my heart. As I listened, I thought I heard my father's voice in that first verse.
Sing and rejoice, ye people of the Tower of Guard,
for your watch hath not been in vain,
and the Black Gate is broken,
and your King hath passed through,
and he is victorious.
Eowyn, pressed closely against me, lifted her head to hear the tidings belling out in the warming air. I caught my breath as the Eagle sang the second verse; for I heard Boromir's beloved voice raised within it.
Sing and be glad, all ye children of the West,
for your King shall come again,
and he shall dwell among you
all the days of your life.
Tears of joy welled up in my eyes. In that third verse, I discerned Mithrandir's voice, newly mirthful as a wind of spring blowing through trees.
The eagle descended then, and hovered just above us. The last time a flying creature of such unnatural size had hunted me, it had brought terror that had nearly stopped my heart with its chill. But this majestic beast looked down at me; I saw its eyes, full of wisdom and truth and a rising hope. The Eagle circled us once, the unveiled Sun gilding its mighty wings. Then it ascended and sang out its final verse in a voice I had never heard before and can never forget.
And the Tree that was withered shall be renewed,
and he shall plant it in the high places,
and the City shall be blessed.
Sing all ye people!"
I am not accustomed to losing myself in deep tides of feeling. Since early childhood; I have been schooled to set an example of strength and constancy as a Lord of Gondor. I released my joy in tears of gladness, mingled with Eowyn's own, as we stood close, arms and hands intertwined. As the Eagle flew high and away, I sang out to all the people who could hear my lesser voice, and was answered. The White City erupted in song, down to the Gates and out, it seemed to the very edge of the Anduin. And in that moment, I knew that my happiness for the Shadow's end was equaled by the certain knowledge that I could win Eowyn's heart in this new and changed world.
The old tales tell that the great Eagles were the messengers of the Lords of the West. Surely the golden harbinger who sang us news of victory belonged to that legendary race. If he were not Thorondor himself, then mayhap the Eagle was one of his sons. I wondered though, at the last voice that had sang from the Eagle's beak: a voice as kind as a brother's, yet stronger than mountains, gentle as a rippling brook but powerful as the winter wind.
We will never know whether it was the voice of Manwë, Lord of the Air and first of the Lords of the Valar, that came from the Eagle's throat. But we will never forget the song.
I had thought that nothing more could be lacking in the sudden surge of sunlit warmth and hope that sprang up in the wake of the Shadow's departure. Then a great golden Eagle flew out of time-lost legends and circled the City walls. And it sang!
Sing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor,
for the Realm of Sauron is ended for ever,
and the Dark Tower is thrown down.
The Eagle did not scream the words. A voice like unto that of Men issued from its beak, the words ringing like bells in my heart. As I listened, I thought I heard my father's voice in that first verse.
Sing and rejoice, ye people of the Tower of Guard,
for your watch hath not been in vain,
and the Black Gate is broken,
and your King hath passed through,
and he is victorious.
Eowyn, pressed closely against me, lifted her head to hear the tidings belling out in the warming air. I caught my breath as the Eagle sang the second verse; for I heard Boromir's beloved voice raised within it.
Sing and be glad, all ye children of the West,
for your King shall come again,
and he shall dwell among you
all the days of your life.
Tears of joy welled up in my eyes. In that third verse, I discerned Mithrandir's voice, newly mirthful as a wind of spring blowing through trees.
The eagle descended then, and hovered just above us. The last time a flying creature of such unnatural size had hunted me, it had brought terror that had nearly stopped my heart with its chill. But this majestic beast looked down at me; I saw its eyes, full of wisdom and truth and a rising hope. The Eagle circled us once, the unveiled Sun gilding its mighty wings. Then it ascended and sang out its final verse in a voice I had never heard before and can never forget.
And the Tree that was withered shall be renewed,
and he shall plant it in the high places,
and the City shall be blessed.
Sing all ye people!"
I am not accustomed to losing myself in deep tides of feeling. Since early childhood; I have been schooled to set an example of strength and constancy as a Lord of Gondor. I released my joy in tears of gladness, mingled with Eowyn's own, as we stood close, arms and hands intertwined. As the Eagle flew high and away, I sang out to all the people who could hear my lesser voice, and was answered. The White City erupted in song, down to the Gates and out, it seemed to the very edge of the Anduin. And in that moment, I knew that my happiness for the Shadow's end was equaled by the certain knowledge that I could win Eowyn's heart in this new and changed world.
The old tales tell that the great Eagles were the messengers of the Lords of the West. Surely the golden harbinger who sang us news of victory belonged to that legendary race. If he were not Thorondor himself, then mayhap the Eagle was one of his sons. I wondered though, at the last voice that had sang from the Eagle's beak: a voice as kind as a brother's, yet stronger than mountains, gentle as a rippling brook but powerful as the winter wind.
We will never know whether it was the voice of Manwë, Lord of the Air and first of the Lords of the Valar, that came from the Eagle's throat. But we will never forget the song.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.
