[piosenniel]

Bird

Cami had just turned down the hall to her and Maura’s room when the soft flutter of wings grew loud behind her and a sputtering ball of feathers and bony feet came to rest on her right shoulder.

‘Here now! You weren’t thinking of doing your disappearing act without saying good-bye to me, were you?’

Bird fixed Cami with one beady black eye and gave an indignant shake of her tail feathers. She plucked a particularly lovely black and white feather from her tail and handed it to the Hobbit. ‘I followed Pio. Saw the drawing you made for her. Stick this in your pocket and show it to the folks when you’re telling them about me.’ She fluffed out her feathers and preened a bit. ‘Let them know I was your friend in all my guises. And to be mindful of the little critters about them . . . never know when one of them may turn out to be exceedingly helpful.’

The little jackdaw dropped down to the floor changing as she reached it to her human form. She drew Cami into a fierce hug, whispering a few last words to her. By then, the door to Cami’s room had opened slightly, and a slender shaft of soft light poured out followed by Maura’s head, looking hopefully down the hall.

Bird drew back from the hug with a barely concealed sniffle and turned Cami round to face toward the open door. ‘Go on, now. No time for boo-hooing about things we can’t do anything about. Maura’s waiting for you. Go on!’ She gave the Hobbit a little shove in the small of her back that sent her hurrying toward the waiting man.

Then, with a resigned sigh, Bird turned her own steps toward the Common Room. It was empty of customers, and the Innkeeper was abed. There on the shelf below the bar was a bottle of fiery Southron spirits she had spied on one of her late night excursions.

Back in her room, glass in hand, she sat by the open window, feet propped on the sill. There, in the south, just peeking over the dark horizon was Helluin, the Azure Bee. Pio had shown her that cluster of stars many years ago, calling them the Shapechanger’s constellation. Ingil, Ingwë’s son, it was said had followed after Telimektar, the son of Tulkas, when he rose into the sky as Menelmacar, The Swordsman of the Sky. Ingil had taken the shape of a great bee bearing honey of flame and settled at the foot of Telimektar, awaiting the Last Battle and the End of Days.

Bird raised her glass to the southern star and threw back the drink in a single gulp, the fiery liquid burning it’s way down her throat. One more she drank to Cami and the realization of her hopes.

The rest she sipped at slowly, letting the few hours of the night slip by thinking on what she might do when they returned to Minas Anor . . .