A Bird’s Eye View

By: Elemmírë

Summary: A look at Frodo’s reaction to flying with the Eagles. Inspired by Shirebound's 'Return to Rivendell', Chapter 9: The Gift

Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings does not belong to me, nor am I making any profit off either its story or characters.

Author’s Note: This came to me while flying home at 33,000ft. in clear skies for six hours from California to Connecticut. Since this short ficlet was inspired by Shirebound, I dedicate this to her. :D

Once he’d semi-recovered from the shock of being up so high and the awe of the great beast that was easily ten times the size of himself, Frodo loosened himself from Gandalf’s protective embrace. He leaned forward and looked down over the side of the Great Eagle’s neck, knowing that Gandalf would continue to hold him securely and that neither Wizard nor Eagle would let harm come to him.

Frodo gasped in fascinated delight when he saw the lands spread out below him like a painted picture in one of his many childhood storybooks. The many elaborate buildings that comprised Rivendell and dwarfed any structures to be found in the hobbits’ Shire, now appeared to him in miniature. The tall Elf, Arnen, looked to be so small from this distance and he could barely discern Merry, Pippin at all (nor their ponies) standing atop the cliff.

Frodo was amazed at seeing the canopy of treetops below him instead of always having to look up into their boughs. In the distance loomed the grey, mist-shrouded peaks of the Misty Mountains and the Sun shone with a clear and strong light in all Her splendor.

Sensing the tiny Ring-bearer’s growing ease of height, Gwaihir spread his wings and soared even higher. Gandalf was extremely pleased when Frodo emitted a laugh of pure joy, as the hobbit tried reaching a small, slender hand to touch the billowing white clouds. It was with a great sadness that the wizard knew his young friend would likely have few experiences that would touch him so again in what little time he would remain in Middle-earth.

Frodo was astounded at the sheer muscle power beneath him and all those beautiful feathers of Gwaihir’s. As they soared higher, Frodo felt a slight pressure in his ears that grew until he felt them pop disconcertingly. His curly hair was pulled back from his face in the winds. Frodo wondered if Gwaihir was going to fly them right through the clouds!

They were now so high up in the sky that Frodo thought he could see some of the green hills of the Shire and the blue ribbon of the Brandywine River snaking its way southward. He strained his eyes in vain to be able to spot the waters of the Sea, west of Rivendell and also of the Shire. The inexplicable longing in his heart returned, but the hobbit mistakenly thought it to be merely homesickness for his beloved Shire.

Landroval, Gwaihir’s brother, swooped near and Frodo looked over to see Sam and Radagast the Brown clinging to the eagle’s broad back. He grinned at Sam and waved.

Ever glad to see his master and friend smile and his blue eyes sparkle once again after their arduous journey to Mordor in an effort to destroy the One Ring, Samwise Gamgee let go his fierce grip with one hand and waved back. He remained too astounded at flying with an Eagle to be able to do much more.

When they began to descend, Frodo suddenly felt his stomach catch and feel like it was leaping into his throat. He tightly gripped onto Gandalf’s arm and his old friend gave him a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

Once the Eagles landed and both wizards helped their charges back down to solid earth, Frodo and Sam once again gave a low bow to the pair of Eagles to show their respect and gratitude.

“I’m afraid that a mere ‘thank you’ does not express all that I feel right now,” Frodo said, straining his neck to peer up at Gwaihir and Landroval.

Both Eagles bowed their great heads in return to the small hobbits standing before them; Gwaihir replied in the screeching speech of his kind. “Whether you think so or not, Frodo son of Drogo, it is I and all creatures in Middle-earth are forever in your gratitude. It was an honor to bear you and the Lord Samwise once more … and I am glad for you to be awake and perched upon my back this time, instead of dangling like a dead thing in my talons.”

Frodo smiled once more as Sam merely shook his head, windswept honey-colored curls settling once more into place with the movement. “Thank you great sirs. That was just as Mr. Bilbo described in his tale, Mr. Frodo!”

Frodo squeezed his dearest friend’s warm hand. “Yes, Sam, it was …. and even more.”