Bird sat in a tree by the fountain of Idril's garden. The dinner long over, the house dark in slumber.
The discussion with Child, and the confrontation between Mithadan and Maeglin had put the skin-changer in a "fey" mood. She could accept that this city would fall, resign herself to the fact that by a second sunrise the work of centuries would be a smoking ruin.
What she could not accept was the blindness of its King. Bird had always carried a chip on her shoulder when it came to the Elf Folk, jibing and ridiculing their ways while always knowing that they were far more, and far better than herself.
But now she had seen what Elven pride and love of beauty could lead to. The King had ignored every warning, even from his kin. Even from the Valar! Turgon's love of his creation was every bit as greedy and grasping as the love of gold in the Dwarf Folk. And Bird knew that it was wrong, very wrong.
She had an overwhelming urge to stand before Turgon and smash the most delicate, skillfully crafted piece she could find in the city, and shout ""See! It's stone and metal! And to preserve it you would sacrifice flesh and blood! Take your people and flee! You can build again. After all, you have forever."
Bird looked frantically around the silent garden, finally seeing a piece of delicate statuary, balanced on a plith of marble, rising from the flowers. Suddenly she darted towards the artwork, flailing it with her wings until it teetered, toppled, and fell with a crash to the paving stones below. "Stone and metal. That's all it is! Stone and metal!" she hissed.
The spell passed, and Bird sat on the plith, gazing down at a scattering of shards, totally meaningless. She drew a deep, ragged breath. "Whereever you think you are going Child. I'm going, too. But before I do, I'll be there to watch Maeglin die. I will. I'll see him die."
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