White Wing by Cirdan

White Wing

Read White Wing

            Annael found Tuor hanging upside down from the branch of a tree.  Annael shook his head and poked the boy in the nose.  "And what do you think you're doing, Tuor?"

            "I'm pretending to be a bat."  Tuor's arms were folded over his chest like a bat too, but his face was looking suspiciously pale.

            "How long have you been upside down now?" Annael asked.

            Tuor shrugged.  "I haven't been counting."  Annael saw him sway slightly but didn't do anything.  Instead, he waited until the boy became dizzy and fell out of the tree.  Annael neatly turned Tuor right-side up and waited for him to regain his senses.

            "You're a Man, not a bat," Annael chided him.  It would've been pointless to chide him before he'd gotten dizzy.  Annael had slowly learned that Men could be very stubborn and often refused to believe in their own weaknesses.  "If you hang upside down too long, the blood rushes to your head, and you get dizzy.  It's a good thing I was here to catch you, but next time you might fall on your head."

            "But if I ever become a lord, I think I'll call my house the House of the Bat," Tuor said as he hugged his fosterfather around the neck.

            "And you'll be the Lord of the Bat?" Annael asked.

            Tuor nodded with all the seriousness of a child.  "Bat-man."  He smiled.  "I really like the sound of it."

            "Ah, but Tuor, bats are not viewed as 'good' by the Elves."  Annael carried his quickly growing fosterson back to camp.  "Remember the Tale of Beren and Luthien?  There was an evil messenger of Sauron who assumes the guise of a giant bat."

            "Thuringwethil, the Woman of Secret Shadow," Tuor said with wide eyes.  "I'd forgotten.  How about Robin?" Tuor suggested.

            Annael laughed.  "Nay, a robin is too gentle for you."

            Tuor fell silent, but his arms remained about Annael's neck.  The other Elves often wondered how Annael could stand to take care of the human child, who was capricious and not as well-behaved as an Elven child, but at such moments, Annael found the trouble of dealing with an unpredictable human child utterly rewarding.  Tuor was affectionate in a way that was unseen among Elven children.

            "Were you a lord once?" Tuor asked.

            "No, I was never a lord," Annael said.

            "Then I think I will never be a lord too," Tuor said.  "We're outlaws, hunted by the servants of Morgoth."

            "There may yet be hope," Annael said.  "I was not a lord, but I was an elite knight, one of the Royal Guards of the High King of the Noldor.  I earned such honor in the Glorious Battle that I was dubbed Knight of the Grey Wing."

            "Then how about if I am named Night Wing?  Or will that sound too odd?  Knight of the Night Wing," Tuor said.

            "Darkness settles in these lands.  It is best not to use a name that includes night."

            Annael settled his fosterson into his bedroll.  Annael and a small number of his companions still needed to scout the east for foes, but he looked forward to resting beside Tuor when it was over.  Indeed, Annael had begun to think about leaving the caves of Androth and retreat to the Havens of Sirion.  Perhaps there, Tuor would be safe.  Tuor kissed his fosterfather on the cheek and then allowed himself to be tucked in.  He often complained loudly about wanting to go too or not wanting to sleep, but tonight he was being as good as an Elven child.

            "I'll return later in the night to join you, Tuor."

            Tuor nodded and yawned.  "If not Night Wing, then I'll be White Wing."

            "I like that."  Annael ruffled Tuor's hair and kissed his forehead.  "Good night, Lord of the White Wing."