****This story is just for you, dear reader. I could not wait to share it with you.****
Morwilwarin woke to a curious noise. Quietly, she moved to the nightstand by her bed and lit a lantern. Goosebumps chilled her arms as she moved down through the main room, past a door that she had not opened for years. And she went outside towards what seemed like frantic chirping.
By the oak tree in front of her home lay a nest on the ground and one small sparrow. Immediately it opened its small mouth to be fed. A small, sad smile tugged at the corner of the girl's lips. “I'm glad I found you before anyone else. I'm sorry you lost your home, but where is your mother?” Morwilwarin didn't actually expect an answer and rushed back into the house to fetch a basket to place the bird in.
As the weeks passed the the birds beak hardened and his body grew larger. But Morwilwarin began to worry that the sparrow, whom she now named Gyrah, would never fly. And she was still waking at three in the morning to feed him as though he were a babe. Yet he refused to leave her shoulder, staying perched on it when she ran her errands in the town or in the countryside when she gathered herbs. Soon enough, people saw the pair as one and the same. He even slept in a basket next to her bed; that is how inseparable they were.
After a only a few weeks with Gyrah, Morwilwarin began to notice strange things about the bird: that which less observant people would not have seen. For instance, he would often hop off her arm and hop over to a copse of bushes to bring back surprisingly useful herb. In fact, one night she boiled a blue-green leaf that Gyrah brought to her; it looked very similar to a leaf commonly used to relieve headaches and congestion. Therefore, she trusted that he made the right choice, even though the very logical side of her said that she should not trust an animals judgment. But her less rational side won in this case: she reasoned to herself that the bird was intelligent enough to search for useful herbs in the first place. Furthermore, he seemed rather protective of her, always pecking her when a potentially dangerous animal or person was near.
Yet, as observant as she was, Morwilwarin failed to see the blue vapors emitted from the bowl of the herbal concoction when she leaned over it. And as she inhaled its pleasantly fragrant aroma, Morwilwarin saw that Gyrah seemed to peer at her over her shoulder, as though he were watching her and the bowl's contents as she drank it. Yet, she merely chuckled at him in response . “Gyrah, sometimes I wonder about you," she said, "you are almost human! I wish you could drink this, it's such a soothing tea,” she said to the sparrow, as she drained the last of the liquid.
Life was good, she thought to herself as she lay in bed, Gyrah sleeping nearby. She was no longer alone, and she had someone to take care of. People did not seem to connect to her in the way that animals did. Yes, she did have friends, but Morwilwarin felt that they never understood her. They had good times and she loved them; but for her part, they did not touch her soul like Gyrah did.
That night she dreamed of a strange world, much like this one. Only, less solid and more transparent. And her body shone brightly in a way that it did not in the waking world. As she walked up a flight of stairs in the dream, she realized that she was in her own house. Slowly, she entered her bedroom and found a tome of arcane design lying on her bed. On its cover were swirling patterns of beast-like and human persons all interlocked.And if she looked close enough, the designs almost seemed to move slightly.And in the middle lay a silver star that glowed brightly with an inner light. Morwilwarin felt strongly compelled to open the book. But when she was about to touch it, the pages flipped open by themselves and bright light flooded the entire room, leaving her momentarily blinded. Silvery, cold voices seemed to fill the space, seemingly inhuman in nature. Even though she could not understand their language, she knew from their tone that she was doing a bad thing indeed. They were angry with her.
The next minute she found herself lying in bed, under the covers. Daylight streamed through the windows and she could hear the hustle and bustle of the city folk as they went about on their morning business. Quickly, she tossed the bed covers down and looked for the book only to find nothing. It was just a dream—a very realistic one. Yet she could not shake it off, what a strange dream. It was a little frightening but interesting at the same time. If only she could have seen the pages in that book! What was held within those covers? “No matter,” she said to herself,“I better makes some breakfast for me and Gyrah.”
She happily walked down the stairs, smelling an adventure awaiting her that morning. She would find a new dress, a new herb, or maybe an interesting flower to bring back home. Rah, her assistant, always made new things possible. As she went to the pantry to fetch some bread and meat, she noticed something strange. It was too quiet in the house. Usually, Gyrah was making a new song of his own concoction at this time. And he was able to move about the house, hopping freely because she left the doors within open just for him. So she expected to see him in the kitchen hopping about in a lively fashion. “Gyrah!” she called out, “Come have breakfast with me. You need your energy so we can go to the market! And I promised Mrs. Oakdale that I'd take her some of my scones. Where is that dratted bird?”
Morwilwarin went to the other rooms of the house, wondering if he was playing a new game with her. Such a thing would not be so surprising for such a smart creature after all. But after searching the entire home, which wasn't very big anyway, she came back to the kitchen and sat down with a huff. And that is when she saw him. He was in the corner of the kitchen table, he was partially hidden by a few bowls..
Gyrah's little legs were in the air, stiff. No. No. That is not right. It cannot be, she thought to herself. Yet, as she gingerly touched him, afraid of what might or might not happen, she found that he was completely stiff. “No, no. This isn't real,” she said to herself as she paced back and forth, her hands in her hair. This is a horrible trick to play on me, Gryah.”
She walked back to the little sparrow and cradled him in her hands. His little body was cold to the touch. “No, you cannot do this to me little one! Morwilwarin paused and lowered her voice, “I love you. Is that what you want to hear? You are like my child or my brother. Please wake up. I will do anything.”
Morwilwarin held him to her chest for hours, unable to accept the truth. He was only a few months old. And that night she buried him in grass, under the tree where she first found him. It was as though she felt nothing. She did not even have the will to make a supper for herself, or the desire. No it is wrong to say that she felt nothing. She felt regret for not checking on him sooner. Maybe she could have prevented whatever killed him. But after looking at his body, she saw no obvious cause for his death. In bed, she replayed scenarios over and over about how she could have prevented it and why it happened. It was to no avail. Another death in her home. Who cares if it was only an animal this time?
And the next day, the house felt distinctly empty. Gone was that feeling of familial warmth and strangely enough, a sense of safety was also lacking. Isn't that weird? A feeling of protection because of a little bird.
Things only seemed to grow worse in Morwilwarin's eyes over the next few days. Food would spoil very quickly. Treasured keepsakes would fall and break. Sometimes apparently for no reason, or so she would swear. Door's would shut suddenly, of their own accord. And one time. Yes, one time she saw something, dart sway from sight in the corner of her eye. But she could not describe what exactly it looked like. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done for it. She would wait a few more days to see if it was just her imagination. Perhaps she was stressed because of what happened to Gyrah. All she could do was leave a few candles lit around her bed she slept. Light always made her feel safe. And she would pray to Eru for her safety. Maybe everything would get better in time, she hoped. But something made her doubtful.
