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Old 05-24-2004, 01:20 AM   #213
piosenniel
Desultory Dwimmerlaik
 
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Rôg

Rôg woke with a start. He’d fallen asleep it seemed and now his mind was fuzzy with details of some dream he’d had. He knuckled his eyes, pushing the weariness from him, and yawned widely. It was mid-day in the camp; the clan was about its daily business. Familiar sounds drifted into the little lean-to . . . people calling out to one another as they passed, the sound of horses tethered at a nearby picket line, the voices of little ones flying among the tents.

Aiwendil was nowhere to be seen. ‘Gone with Narayad,’ Surinen told him in the common tongue. ‘To relieve himself.’ A voice called out to Surinen calling him a short distance away. It looked to be an outrider with some news to share. Rôg leaned back against his pack, thinking about what his family would be doing this time of day. The sounds of the camp tugged at him, reminding him sharply of how much he missed his own clan. At the first opportunity he would leave, he told himself, once he knew the old man was safe here. He cast his eyes about in the bright light of mid-day and began making plans. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of whisperings and shh’s near the backdrop of the leant-to.

~*~

‘Miri! Come on! Papi will have our hides if he knows we’re here!’ The frantic whisper of some young boy’s voice was followed by the sounds of a brief tussle.

‘Leave me be! I just want to see them!’

Rôg looked back in time to see a pair of little brown eyes peering under the edge of the lean-to’s covering. He smiled at them and winked, watching as the covering lifted higher and the grinning face of a small girl peeked in. Her gaze was openly curious; no fear shown in her eyes. She wriggled the rest of herself into the lean-to and stood up, looking the seated stranger up and down. Unthinking the words popped from her mouth. ‘You don’t look like some scary monster,’ she whispered, poking him on the cheek with an outstretched finger to see if he were indeed real.

Her eyes went wide, her lips forming an ‘O!’ of surprise as a delicate blue butterfly now clung to her outstretched finger and wiggled its antennae at her. And just as quickly changed back to the seated man. ‘Not a monster,’ he whispered to her, his grin matching hers. ‘I’m Rôg, little one. And who are you?’

‘Miri,’ she said aloud, then clapped her hands over her mouth. ‘Miri,’ she whispered back at him. She leaned in close to him. ‘I love butterflies,’ she confided. ‘Show me how to do that . . . please.’ He looked at her curiously, wondering how she could not do this simple change yet. Taking her hands in his he had her remember how the butterflies she’d seen looked and acted, and when she had one favorite fixed firmly in her mind, he taught her the little rhyme he’d learned as a boy from his parents.

She landed in the palm of his hand, testing her wings then by flying up to his forearm. He whispered the rhyme for changing back, watching as she fluttered down from his arm to land back on her own two brown little feet. They were in the midst of him telling her about the dangers she must understand that faced butterflies, her eyes intent on his words as she shook her head in understanding, when a gruff voice interrupted them . . .

Last edited by piosenniel; 05-24-2004 at 01:46 AM.
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