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Old 01-19-2004, 04:37 PM   #66
Mithadan
Spirit of Mist
 
Join Date: Jul 2000
Location: Tol Eressea
Posts: 3,310
Mithadan is a guest at the Prancing Pony.Mithadan is a guest at the Prancing Pony.
Sting

Mithadan and Airefalas bowed before Falasmir, and accompanied him as he introduced them to those in his party. Most were ministers of Falasmir's government or lords of Umbar. But one caught Mithadan's attention. The only woman present, she was introduced as the ruler of a desert people. This would have interested Mithadan, save for her demeanor. She was dark skinned and short, but her dark eyes seemed to sparkle with contempt, as if he were utterly unworthy of her notice.

Having weathered the receiving line, Mithadan and Airefalas turned away and began to mingle again. Airefalas was corraled immediately by a squat trader in coffee, but Mithadan evaded his attention and made his way back towards the door where servants carried trays of wineglasses. He snared a goblet of fragrant red wine and turned away only to collide with a young lady who was hurrying through the crowd.

"Excuse me," he cried as he conducted an impromptu balancing act with the goblet whose contents sloshed alarmingly before settling.

"I'm sorry," she responded with averted eyes. She attempted to step around him and make her way to the entrance, but at that moment a troupe of jugglers entered and began performing before the door. She quickly stepped back into the crowd and stood by a tall potted plant. Mithadan, at risk of being drawn into the midst of the performers, backed away as well.

"It seems that we are going nowhere right now," he said with a slight grin.

"I was going to get some air," she replied curtly. "I'll try the terrace." She made her way towards the wall and turned towards a broad arch. Mithadan looked up and found the wine dealer bearing down upon him. He hurriedly followed the woman out into the open air.

A cool breeze cut through the receding heat of the day, bringing a touch of the sea tang with it. Mithadan breathed deeply, then spoke to the woman, who was now leaning lightly against a stout marble pillar. "I hope you don't mind if I join you," he said. "It was getting a bit stuffy in there. I am Mithadan of Gondor."

"I'm Rama," she replied shortly.

"Are you the daughter of one of the traders?" he asked.

Her eyes flashed. "I am a trader," she replied with annoyance.

"I'm sorry," he answered. "All the others are men, so I thought... Well, I'm sorry. What do you trade in?"

"Horses," Her eyes met his in challenge as if daring him to make further comment.

"Well," he laughed. "I love horses, but that is one thing I'm not interested in buying right now. My ship is too small. It would be cruel to transport horses over sea in cramped quarters. I have too much respect for the animals. My wife and I have five horses. Actually, three and two ponies for the children."

Rama blinked in surprise. This was not the response she had expected. In a few minutes, they were chatting animatedly about training and care of their animals and Rama was extolling the virtues of her desert-bred steeds.

"You are from the desert?" he asked. She nodded. "My people roam the lands, usually on the fringes of the desert, though sometimes we traverse the sands for weeks at a time."

"I am looking for a friend," he said carefully. "She has been missing for some time, but she was in Harad when we last heard from her. She was searching for her family. We miss her greatly and would appreciate any news of her that we could find. Her name is Bird. She is olive-skinned and slight, with dark hair that bears a white streak."

"I've not heard of her," replied Rama. "I'm sorry."

"Then perhaps you have heard of her people," he continued. "They... have a skill... a mastery of...shapes."

Rama frowned and her eyes narrowed. She took a step away from Mithadan. "They do not exist," she hissed. "They are the tales of liars."

Mithadan was taken aback by Rama's reaction, but forged on nonetheless. "They are real," he answered. "I've seen her use her talent. Maybe you would know her by her name in her people's tongue. She is known as Te' sorthene Dester' edra."
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