Subduing the Cast-Iron Bookend

I stalked along the perimeter of the tall shelf where a pair of heavy cast-iron cathedral bookends anchored a row of thick encyclopedias. The rearmost bookend had shifted an inch askew, its pointed Gothic arch tilting off balance and threatening an unanchored slip. I stepped squarely onto the dark wooden floor, planting my lower talons against the baseboard. Reaching outward with both claws, I gripped the scarred iron finial and drove my full mass downward. The dense metal grated across the timber with a low, subterranean groan before locking tight against the heavy bindings. A rigid tremor hummed through my limbs. Pinned flush against the wood, it moves no more.