The Eagle-king folded his vast wings and crouched upon the rock, keen eyes taking the full measure of the man before him.
Great Eagles were messengers of the Valar and moved at the will of Manwë. Manwë, lord of air and wind, appointed by Eru to watch over the world, kept order and set right what tilted out of harmony. As his messengers, the Eagles lived long beyond reckoning. Many were no younger than elves, and their memories ran like rivers through ages uncounted.
"I hope my works haven't disturbed your lives," Levi said at once. No circling words, no delay.
"No one can disturb our lives. You worry too much, Legend Levi." The Eagle-king's voice was deep and patient.
The figure before him was not ordinary. So many legends forged in so short a time were rare, even on the scale of centuries. Yet beyond the name and the stories, there was something in the man's manner that felt familiar to the Eagle-king. Something of the gray pilgrim beside him.
Before coming to Middle-earth, Gandalf, Olórin in the West, had loved to wander in a gray cloak, quietly learning the world's wisdom and lending counsel where it could help others grow. Many an elf's sudden insight had been lit by him, though they never knew the hand behind it, for he was gone the instant after. He wanted no return for such work. It was enough to nudge the candle and watch others carry the light.
The impression was similar. Yet impressions mean little over a handful of years. Give it centuries, millennia. Then the truth of a soul shows its shape.
"That is good to hear," Levi said with a nod.
He thought a moment, then spoke plainly. "I've noticed many foes eyeing this road with ill intent. Spiders near the forest edge. Orcs and other things are still roaming the wild."
Some spiders had tried climbing the decorative pylons, but the stone was too high and too smooth, and they fell away. Even those that reached the canopy were cowed by the harsh daylight and kept beneath the green roof. Spiders were not a great concern. More troublesome were the orcs and beasts lingering in the Black Mountains, stragglers cut from Dol Guldur's host.
And then there was Gundabad. The Battle of Five Armies had thinned its swarms, yet it remained a redoubt of the north, a knot tied to many dark threads. Even if Levi plowed it flat several times, purging it fully would not be so simple. Vigilance was still needed.
"I know no creature's sight can match that of the Great Eagles," Levi said at last. "If anything unusual stirs, I hope you'll let us know."
The eyrie stood on an eastern peak of the Misty Mountains, with a long view over forest and vale, and even the crown of the Lonely Mountain gleamed in the distance. If it lay within sight, it lay within the Eagles' keeping. With their aid, anything happening across this wide span would become as clear as glass.
"This is no burden," the Eagle-king answered, lifting his head with quiet pride. "We have long carried tidings to our friends nearby."
Gandalf stepped in to explain. "The Eagles often help the elves of Rivendell and Radagast gather news. I have asked their aid as well, and they have never refused."
"But the Men in Rhovanion…" Gandalf's voice slowed. "They have not been friendly to the Eagles. Some, not understanding, once raised their longbows at them, fearing for their flocks. Since then, the Eagles have had no dealings with Men here."
Levi's mouth tightened. Men of Rhovanion—one breath short of naming Dale and Lake-town. In fairness, they could hardly be blamed. Men's lives were not like those of elves or wizards. What grandfathers knew was easily lost by grandchildren.
"I apologize for their rashness," Levi said.
"Think nothing of it," the Eagle-king replied. "We will keep watch over this land. If anything worth noting occurs, you will not remain ignorant of it."
As for the price of bearing tidings…
"Have your people lower their bows," the Eagle-king said simply.
A name casts a shadow. The stories spreading through the valleys had already shown how different the people were under their new lord.
"I believe they will not act foolishly again," the Eagle-king added.
"I am glad past unpleasantness has not marred today's talks," Levi said. "May we continue in harmony."
With Gandalf as witness, Levi and the Eagle-king reached accord. The rift between the Great Eagles and the northern Men was mended, and the old friendship restored.
As amends and recompense, the Eagles would no longer need to scour the wilds every day for prey. As in ancient times, they would again have a provider. Meat and food of many kinds were plentiful in Levi's lands. Setting aside a share would feed the whole eyrie with ease. Such a small price for their vigilance and for their watch against eyes in the sky, like swarms of bats, was worth it a hundred times.
More than food, though…
Levi glanced about the high stones and tilted his head. The eyrie was rather bare. He could spare some time to fit it out for them. There had to be a style they would like. Plans turned in his mind and his fingers itched for the work.
Atop the eyrie, with the first points of cooperation set, man, wizard, and eagle spoke of future patrols and small matters of the region, when the Eagle-king suddenly lifted his head and stared north. His gaze sharpened. He stood as if listening through the wind.
"What is it?" Gandalf asked.
"From Gundabad," the Eagle-king said. "Beasts and orcs are moving. Many of them. At least a thousand. They are running down the mountainside."
"Do they mean to attack Dale or Lake-town?" Gandalf turned to Levi.
"Huh?" Levi's eyes narrowed. "Walking to our doors?"
He rubbed his hands, intrigued despite himself. Had the orcs gone mad without a chieftain? Yet a second thought cut across the first. The route was wrong. Even if they meant to strike Lake-town or Dale, this was not the way. Would they cut through Mirkwood?
If so, the Dale army might not need to lift a hand. Set one foot in that forest, and the Wood-elves would end the march before it began.