The battle had been raging since midday and showed no sign of ending. The air was filled with the clash of weapons and the shouts and screams of men, and the battlefield was turning into a churned up mess of bloodstained mud. Banners and pennants flew, the blare of trumpets sounded as commanders gave orders and the ground thundered as cavalry charged here and there, the screams of the horses adding to the din.

   “It’s certainly a magnificent spectacle,” said Atremis from his vantage point in the thousand year old cherry tree overlooking the battle. “You can’t deny that.”

   “Death on a massive scale is often magnificent,” said his companion glumly. “Doesn’t make it any less depressing.”

   “Look at the King over there. So young, bold and brave! So dashing in that brilliant uniform. Right in the thick of the battle. He could have sat it out, stayed in his command tent while his men fought for him. Instead he’s right in there, risking his life along with everyone else. Doesn’t that tell you something about these people?”

   “You can be valiant and stupid at the same time,” countered Baldron. “There was no need for this battle. If they’d reached a rational agreement with their neighbours...”

    “Come on, you know that was never going to happen. In all the time we’ve been observing these people, when have we ever seen them doing something rational?”

   “But the solution was so simple and obvious! One country’s being destroyed by storms and floods, all their crops washed away. The other’s in the middle of a drought. All their crops withered and dying. They could have built an aqueduct between the two countries, used the floodwater of one to irrigate the other...”

   “The aqueduct would have had to go through the High Moors. They would have had to dig at least one tunnel five miles long through solid rock. Probably several.”

   “We’ve seen other civilisations at this level of development perform greater feats than that. I took the form of one of King Peter’s advisors. Tried to persuade him...”

   “You didn’t tell me that! Clearly you weren’t very persuasive.”

   “It was a valid argument. He should have listened. Both countries would have prospered. Instead...” He gestured with one wing at the bloodshed going on below. “Each would rather conquer the other, steal all their food.”

Something caught his eye and he fluttered up to a higher branch to see better. “I don’t believe it!” he said as Atremis joined him there. “Look! Over there! That character in the red robes! See him? It’s a bloody bard! He’s taking notes!”

The other observer looked in the indicated direction, saw the man scribbling on a large scroll of paper, occasionally rubbing something out with a block of rubber and blowing the crumbs away before continuing.

“He’s going to turn this slaughter into a poem or something," exclaimed Baldron in disbelief. "To entertain people! What is wrong with these people?”

He fell silent at the sight of a soldier running in their direction, a look of terror on his face. He was chased by an enemy soldier who caught up with him right at the base of the tree in which the two observers were perched. The first soldier tripped and fell, throwing his hands up in a desperate attempt to ward off the killing blow, to no effect as the huge mace swung down and crushed his head.

“Oooh!” said Atremis, looking away from the gory sight. “That had to hurt!”

   The other soldier looked down at his victim for a few moments, then looked around to see if any other enemies were nearby. At one point he looked directly at the two observers, who stared back down at him. Then he turned and headed back to the battle.

“See?” said Atremis in delight. “He saw us! He looked right at us, but paid us no attention. I told you this was a good form to take. We can go anywhere, observe every part of their civilisation, without attracting any attention. I’m going to advise the council that all observers take this form for every future mission...”

There was a sudden blur of motion and Atremis was gone. Baldron looked around in alarm, and saw him on a lower branch, struggling in the claws of a large bird of prey. The hawk, or whatever it was, turned its head this way and that, searching for threats, and when it was sure it was safe it began pulling the feathers from the small blue bird.

“I think...” said Baldron to himself, “That I’m going to advise that we take a somewhat larger form...”