“It is an ill omen,” Amin announced.

I lifted my head slowly from the herbs I was mixing and turned to look at him. His brow was troubled, and uncertainty lay in his eye.

“Speak on,” I said.

“A great bird circles the village. It is huge – a beast with wings. A bird of such kind I have never seen before. And I – it is only a fancy, but I deem it watches us.”

“You think He has sent it?” I asked sharply.

Amin swallowed. He clenched his fingers more tightly around his spear, seeking comfort. “I do not know.”

“But you fear,” I said, reading his face with ease.

Amin fixed me with a harsh look. Only a warrior for two moons, the chief’s son valued his pride over all. But then he smiled, as sudden as a summer downpour.

“We all fear,” he said. “Won’t you come and see for yourself, Wizard?”

I returned his smile. My affection for this young man and his tribe was an almost physical pain. I could see the storm on the horizon more clearly than they could, a looming cloud over the open desert. Soon the call would come, and Amin would answer. He would answer from no darkness in his heart. With light in his spirit he would march under the black banner, and die under it.

“Show me,” I said gruffly, rising to my feet with difficulty. The years had worn on me lately. Amin came forward to assist me, but I waved him away. Even old men must have their pride.

The bird was everything Amin said. But at once I knew this was no watcher of the Great Eye. No, this was a Northern bird, of a long and dignified line. But what could have compelled such a beast so far from home, I knew not.

As I came out into the light, the bird swooped lower in the sky. To my surprise, it landed several meters away.

Amin started forward, spear in hand, but I held him back.

“This is no black beast,” I told him. “I will see to it.”

The eagle – for an eagle it was – watched me approach with sharp, intelligent eyes. When I was a few feet away, I bowed deeply to it.

“This is an unaccustomed honor,” I said conversationally. “What brings you so far from your home, to a land where the wind blows weak?”

At my words, the eagle let out a harsh cry. Behind me, Amin flinched, but looking on the eagle, I realized this was the sound of its laughter.

“This is a strange land indeed,” the eagle said. “And you are right about the wind. No breeze cradles in the air; it’s been hard going the whole way.”

“A testament to the strength in your wings, I am sure,” I said politely. “But I must repeat my question: what urgent business brings you hither?”

The eagle cocked its head. “First you must answer me a question: are you the one that they call the blue wizard?”

“Some have called me that,” I say. “But here I am known Ramestamo.”

“That’s a name I have not heard,” the bird said, hopping from foot to foot. “But I think you are the one that I seek. I come from him who is a friend to the birds.”

“Aiwendel,” I said, the name like birdsong on my lips.

“Ah ha!” the bird said. “So you do know him. That’s all to the good. I would not like to think I’d braved this windless pit for naught.”

“This windless pit, as you name it, is the beloved home of many men and beasts,” I said mildly. “Do not speak ill of it before me.”

The eagle ruffled his wings and drew his head up high. It was clear I had offended him with my rebuke, but I did not regret my words. Those who soar high above others are liable to forget that those on the ground share hopes and dreams in equal measure.

Behind me, I sensed Amin’s unease. He too could read the hostility in the eagle’s changed posture. I held myself still, hoping he would do nothing rash.

Then the eagle relaxed. “They call me Swift-Song, back at home,” he said, in what I understood as an apology. “Sometimes I speak more swiftly than I ought. So I hope you haven’t taken offense at my words, Wizard of Blue. If I’m untactful, it’s from frankness of heart.”

“No offense was taken. And if it had been, what offense could endure, upon such eloquence?” I smiled, as the eagle preened. “But I can see we are in danger, the two of us. With such company I could bandy words until the sun sets, yet the business must be pressing, if it has brought you hither.”

“Pressing indeed,” the eagle said, a new solemnity in his tone. He shifted closer to me, and lowered his tone to a rasp. “Aiwendal bid me bring you news. And the news is this: Saruman the White has fallen.”

Among the young warriors of Amin’s tribe, a particular dagger is favored for use against bitter enemies. This dagger is twisted at the end. When plunged into a man’s heart, it causes an unbearable pain.

When I heard those words, it was as if that same dagger has been plunged into my heart.

“Fallen?” I repeated. “Fallen, you mean, in battle, against many foes?” But even as I spoke the words, I knew them for false.

“Fallen to darkness,” the eagle said grimly.

For a single moment, I allowed my eyes to close, mourning Curumo, who had always shone the most brightly of us. When I opened my eyes, the eagle was studying me with a piercing gaze.

“Are you merely a bearer of news, Swift-Song?” I asked, struck by a sudden suspicion. “Or do you come here with some other purpose?”

The eagle met my gaze steadily. “The years have passed, the earth has changed, and of the blue wizard his old friends hear nothing. They wonder what has kept you in silence, when the need is so great.”

In his words I did not hear Aiwendel, but one more wily than he. “So Olorin doubts me,” I mused aloud. “Well, if the head of our order can be consumed by the darkness, I suppose I do not blame him.” I smiled sardonically. “Does Olorin think, then, that I do nothing, holed away, as you call it, in this windless pit?”

The eagle said nothing, but his silence was as good as an answer.

I sighed, and then raised myself to my full height. Stooping, I had stood at eye-level with the eagle; now I towered above him. “You may tell Olorin this: I am a far from the darkness, even as I live in its midst. And I will not leave this place, for here dwell those who need our aid far more than the skulking rangers, the wild-horselords, or the proud Gondorians. Here live a people, true and free, whom the great ones will gladly sacrifice to the shadow, and call it just fate. I will not part from them, not now, not ever, even to the darkening of the world.”

As I spoke, power grew in my voice. The eagle quailed before me, though he stood in place, and resisted the urge to flee.

Slowly, I remembered myself. Sheathing my power, I turned away, casting my gaze along the unending dunes of the dessert.

“This message I will bear back,” the eagle rasped. “Though the winds be weak and the path long. This I swear to you, Ramestamo.”

“My thanks, friend,” I said, but I did not watch him go, only heard the powerful flaps of his wings that bore him further and further away from this place, with all its cares.

I was leaning rather heavily on my staff, when Amin came up behind me. Lost in shadowed thoughts, I had forgotten the boy. When I beheld his face, I saw that he had seen and heard more than he ought. Awe and fear vied for place in his countenance.

“Lord Wizard,” he began, but I raised a hand at once.

“I am just as I ever was. And no lord, am I.”

He did not speak for a long while, but I could feel the words mounting in him, the slide of pebbles before an avalanche. “My people,” he said at last, “they will fight for the The Great Eye. They will die for him. But he will never love us. When his enemies in the West are brought low and screaming, he will turn his gaze upon us, and we will be his slaves.”

I could answer nothing. What can be said to bitter truth in so young a face?

“You know this,” he whispered, “and yet you stay.”

“Till the very end, my boy,” I murmured, my treacherous eyes filling with tears. Never before had I felt so akin to the old man my outward guise imitated.

Amin put his hands on my shoulders. His skin was hot, almost feverish; his eyes burned brightly as Elbereth’s star. “Hear my words, then, Wizard. This one here shall not die in the Great Eye’s service. This one here shall spit on him, and all those who serve him.”

I shook my head, my heart going out to this boy, whom I had grown to love so fiercely. “This defiance, Amin – it is noble, but doomed.”

Amin shook his head. “No. You speak as an old man. I am not the only one who sees our doom in Mordor’s shadow. All across the land, people speak in hushed tones. It is only fear that keeps our hatred burning low. At need, it can rise, and will! And we need is a leader, a man of great power.” He faltered, looking at me, In a lower voice, he continued, “I see a light in you, a power as vast as an ocean. Lead us, Wizard. Help us.”

Slowly, I took his hands from my shoulders. “No, Amin. I will not lead you. That is not my role in this age. If you see a great power, a shining light, in me, then you see your own reflection.”

His eyes widened.

“The power to change your people’s fate – this power has always been in you,” I said.

Amin took several steps backwards. He shut his eyes tight, his brow screwed up in thought. I knew what he saw, behind his eyes – that great and gathering darkness, in the face of which all seemed hopeless. But then a change passed across his face. A new light entered it. And when he opened his eyes, I saw for the first time standing before me no boy, but a man.

“So be it, then,” he said.

We neither of us noticed, when the eagle passed from sight.