Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, etc. I am only borrowing his characters for this fanfiction and am making absolutely no profit whatsoever from them.

Credit: Thainsbook dot net, learner dot org, wikipedia.

Landroval

Of course he could walk. He had two feet, did he not? But why bother, when a few flaps of his mighty wings would send him high into the air to seek out heady currents that allowed him to soar effortlessly for miles? No. He was a child of the heavens, born to call the sky his home. Feet were of little use to him, other than for landing upon or clutching at prey.

And ripping enemies apart.

With a chilling, bloodthirsty screech, Landroval bore down upon the Morannon, deadly talons readying to sink deep into the nearest Fell Beast.

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Author's Note: A birthday present for me. Self-indulgent, I know. But someone has to love me :o)

I've often had flying dreams, where I'm soaring across a city, sometimes through it, and effortlessly navigating my way around tall buildings. They might have been dreams, but they were so real, so exhilarating, so liberating, that it was deeply disappointing to wake up and discover I'm just an ordinary landlubber after all.

*wanders off singing Happy Birthday to Me (very dejectedly)*

Kara's Aunty ;)