I am a proud descendant of the most famous cats in all of Middle-earth. Both sides mind you.
That is why I will now allow myself to share a little of what happened in those days. No ordinary cat would dare, but then again, I am no ordinary cat.
I am Berúthiel's own. Famed, gifted, beautiful. I am Alqualondë.
It started when I first saw him, riding in front of the wizard, one my former master was not fond of. I make not light of the situation, but will discuss it no further. He is dead and I am not. I, at least, have the good sense not to cross wizards, stewards or kings.
Be that as it may, it was dawn, my favorite time of day, and I was at my favorite place, the bow of the ship. Do not laugh. That is what he called it, Lord Denethor. He and I would meet there, for I would have been busy during the night, seeing to my duties, and he would just be coming from his study, finally leaving his paperwork for a brief moment's peace.
This day - we did not find it. Instead, I watched as his brow furrowed. He had sight almost as fine as mine. I could tell, by the time the horse reached the Great Gate, that it was the wizard, though much changed in appearance. And, another strange sight, he rode upon a mearh. I had only seen one once before, long ages ago, but once one has seen a descendant of Felaróf, one does not soon forget. They watch their hooves. Never have I heard of a cat being hit by one, though the common horses oft hurt a cat who would walk the roads unawares.
He stroked my forehead, which pleased me greatly, and said, "Look, Alqua." He was the only one I let call me so familiarly. "Much has changed with our wizard. Will he deign to grace us with the reason of this change of appearance? How it came about?" A short chuckle. I lifted my back in appreciation of the jest. "I think not. Well then, I will not ask. I wonder, will he note that my own hairs have turned grayer and are more pronounced?" He paused a moment, "I wonder, does he know I have It and use It?"
We both watched his progress up the many levels, the mearh nary breathing hard. A great sight to see indeed. When the wizard reached the Fourth Level, I heard Lord Denethor draw in a sharp breath. That is when I first beheld the Ernil i Pheriannath. "A Halfling." A touch of awe colored his voice. "It is true." His hand left off its pleasant stroking and gripped the wall, hard enough for me to see the knuckles whiten.
'Faramir should be here,' I thought. I knew of the dream, knew of the prophecy, and yet it was, even with my great knowledge of Middle-earth's history, a bit of a shock to see legend before my very eyes. Faramir would be delighted. The boy, I still continue to think of him as a boy. Did he not grow up in my very sight! The boy always did hope that the fanciful things he read about were true.
Lord Denethor abruptly turned and walked back into the Great Hall. As was my norm, I followed and placed myself in a propitious spot, where I could watch and hear all that occurred.
'This is one interview I will not miss!' though my stomach gurgled at the lack of my morning's milk.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.