Child had stared in disbelief at the winged dragon circling above. Staring up at the blackened sky, she had called out her message and then watched with relief as the creature turned and veered skyward away from the ruins of Gondolin, flying swiftly towards the north and west. Sometime soon, Child knew, Bird would meet up with Pio and Mithadan and then fly onwards towards the waiting ship. They at least would be safe.
To Nitir, a winged dragon was a known thing, both from the stories that Bilbo had taught her and the familiar presence of the gold and green Angara on the Lonely Star. But to those about her from the First Age, it was a different matter. Even in that night of horrors, the figure of Bird with her swirling, powerful wings had caused all to stand and stare. For, never before, in the face of Middle-earth, had the people of Gondolin or the forces of the Dark Lord seen such a creature.
And of all those who stood in amazement gazing at the sky, there was one who stared the longest. That one was Gothmog, lord of Balrogs, high-captain of Angband, one of the mightiest warriors of Morgoth. That was the last night of Gothmog on the face of Arda for, just as he slew the Elf Ectheliion of the Fountain, he too was slain by him. Yet, before he met his death, he spoke to his guard of trolls that they should relay a message to Morgoth concerning this winged flying beast with scales of black and white.
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