Guardians of Ga'Hoole 11 - To Be a King

blacksmiths.”
    “Ah, yes, for the new weapons. I have heard about them. Battle claws they call them.”
    Theo closed his eyes and nodded his head sadly.
    “What’s wrong, Theo?” Emerilla asked.
    “I am the one who made those first battle claws.”
    “But why does that make you so sad?”
    “It is, my dear”—he felt he could call her “my dear” as he was so much older than she—“a sad thing to have as a legacy the creation of a new and deadly weapon.”
    “I see,” Emerilla said softly.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Who Am I? What Am I?”
    “ T hat’s it! That’s it, Emerilla! You would think she had been hatched with battle claws! Just look at her parry with them,” Grank exclaimed with delight to Strix Strumajen.
    “Well, she’s known for being excellent with the close blade and has remarkable turning ability,” Strix Strumajen said proudly.
    “But her flight balance is perfect and a close blade is so much smaller and lighter than these battle claws,” Phineas said.
    Grank! Phineas! Lutta wondered. Even that old codger Lord Rathnik comments on my skill, but why doesn’t Hoole notice me?
    “Mum,” she said, “Hoole never seems to see my best parries and rebounds.”
    Strix Strumajen chuckled. “He sees you, my dear, but he has much on his mind. He must supervise the training of all these owls and the new recruits.”
    Hoole had been back for less than a moon cycle and, within that time, Lutta was captivated by this strong, handsome young owl. It was a strange and wonderful feeling. Strix Strumajen’s initial gizzardly reservations about her daughter had quietly disappeared. Indeed, her daughter seemed much more like her old self. Ah, what a first infatuation can do! Strix Strumajen thought. Of course, who knew if Hoole felt anything for Emerilla? She was certainly attractive enough in every way, but poor Hoole had so many worries. It was not exactly the right time in his life for romance. Although he did seem quite impressed with Emerilla and often invited both her and her mother for milkberry tea in his hollow, it was usually to discuss war strategy.
    Excellent progress had been made at the great tree. Rupert the Rogue smith from Ambala and two other colliers had accompanied Hoole back from the S’yrthghar. Phineas and the Snow Rose had rounded up three other Rogue smiths and two more colliers. It would have been best if Theo had been present to instruct the smiths in the art of forging battle claws, but Grank had learned quite a bit from observing Theo and was a very good instructor. And, of course, no owl could equal Grank in colliering. Atthis point, there were robust fires going in a half-dozen forges near the tree. The fires were so productive in terms of battle claws that there seemed to be little energy left in the flames to reveal anything of great significance to either Hoole or Grank as to what was occurring in the N’yrthghar. But as soon as any message came from Theo, they would be off. Joss had flown out a few nights before to try to make contact with Theo and come back with a report.
    Other members of the parliament had been dispatched to muster troops from the Shadow Forest—Tyto, Ambala, and Silverveil. Each day, new owls arrived and were being trained. When the call came, they would be ready.
    Lutta, looking like Emerilla to the feather, had taken a break from her practice and went to observe Hoole as he worked with a young Barn Owl. She watched him as he tied on the battle claws.
    “When you wear these, it’s important to fly with your talons lifted up just a bit. It helps counterbalance the weight of the claws.” He gave the young owl a friendly cuff. Emerilla felt something shimmer deep within her. This was not the first time she had experienced this sensation. But she was unsure what exactly she was feeling. It happened several times a day. She told herself it was nothing to do with a gizzard. I don’t have a gizzard. This isimpossible. I cannot have any gizzardly feelings. Nothing will get in my way, she told herself as she continued to watch.
    “Now, Winfyr,” Hoole said, addressing the young owl, “after you get used to flying with these battle claws, we’ll let you try winging around with the close blade.” He paused and swiveled his head toward Lutta. “There’s your expert on the close blade, right there.” He nodded at her and Lutta thought she might fall from her perch. Then suddenly, she had an idea. A perfect excuse for meeting with Hoole,