A Shortcut to Eagles

“Trust me, I know how this whole thing is gonna go. There’s a much faster way. Just call the eagles.”

Gandalf blinked, his pipe smoke momentarily pausing mid-ship.

“Excuse me?” said Elrond.

“Seriously,” Gavin insisted. All members of the council stared at him, mouths slightly open as though wanting to ask where he came from but not wanting to look stupid either. “Eagles. Give ’em a ring a ding (so to speak), ask for a quick trip to Mount Doom, drop the Ring of Power from orbit straight into the volcano. It’s the only way to be sure.”

“I never thought of that,” Gandalf admitted, stroking his beard.

“How do we know you’re not just trying to take the Ring for yourself?” Strider asked.

“I’ve got no Ring-bearing intentions, Aragorn,” said Gavin. “I’m just a humble meta detective.”

“Aragorn?” Boromir asked. “That ranger is Aragorn, son of Arathorn?”

“Ah, shit,” said Gavin. “Spoilers. Look, just trust me on this one, fellows of the ship. Call the eagles, this whole thing’ll be done lickety split.”

Everyone shrugged. Gandalf called a moth over and whispered to it conspiratorially. Shortly thereafter, a giant eagle landed in the middle of the council.

“Why have you summoned me, Stormcrow?” the eagle asked. He wore the crown of the Eagle King who aided Bilbo Baggins on his adventure to reclaim dwarven gold.

It took some time, but eventually the council convinced the King of the Eagles to take Frodo and the Ring to Mount Doom–for a good price of course. After all, the eagles would need to deal with orcish longbows and the smoggy air of Mordor and the searing eye of Sauron. Sneaking in wouldn’t be easy. But everyone knew the eagles were miracle workers.

When the Eagle King took off with Frodo nestled in his talons, Gavin Hume figured his job was going to be over far sooner than anticipated. What he didn’t expect was that the Eagle King would tear the Ring away from Frodo, drop the hobbit from a hundred feet in the air, and use the Ring of Power to become the God-King of the Skies.

Now Gavin had a much bigger mess to clean up.





Day 344’s three random writing prompt categories were, “Fanfiction,” “Meta Detective,” and, “The worst thing to say.”

Every time someone goes all “Hurr hurr, why didn’t they just call the eagles at the start?” I want to slap them. Eagles are dicks. Everyone knows it.

– H.

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