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Old 06-05-2004, 07:06 PM   #220
Child of the 7th Age
Spirit of the Lonely Star
 
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Nerindel's post for Sorona:

From her perch in a tall leafy palm, Sorona had watched the three travellers with great interest. She had ascertained that Rama was trying to gain passage north for her two companions, but that changed after the timely intervention of one of the northerners as the maenwaith found herself face to face with an ill-tempered viper. She had almost laughed aloud when the young woman had then offered the edible meaty coils of the serpent to her bemused rescuer. She liked this young one and hoped she would be able to get to know her better. However as the three companions sat down to eat under the shade offered by the line of palms, the Northerners removed their head scarves and she saw with surprise and a measure of curiosity that it was the same two men who had been guests of the raven haired merchant the night before. She had no idea what this meant or indeed if it meant anything but out of caution she decided to keep her distance, at least until she had the opportunity to think things through.

As the three companions waited out the afternoon heat Sorona listened to their conversations, mostly they discussed the soup the Northerner had made and asked general question about the desert and what other dangers they might face. However, Sorona’s interest was not in what they discussed but the language they spoke, she knew that at some point she would have to speak to Ráma or at least the elders of the Maenwaith’s clan and the garbled mixture of languages that had tumbled from her mouth when speaking to Ráma before just would not do! All three seemed to communicate using a variation of the common tongue she had heard widely used in the north, but Ráma had spoken a different language back at the cave, one that she recognised and understood, but had not heard in a long time. She had learned many languages over the years, but had never put them to much use; she focused on trying to isolate the one that would best suit her needs and now that seemed to be the common tongue, listening to their conversations made it easier for her to recall the words and sounds.

As the arid afternoon gave way to the cool of early evening, the travellers remounted and set off southward. She followed discreetly, still trying to recall the words she would need to communicate with the people she followed. The first day's travel was largely uneventful, but she had realised that Rama had been right: the constantly shifting sands of the desert were open and inviting, but also comfortingly familiar. Several times, she lost herself, soaring and gliding through the deserts warm air currents, free and unburdened, and then she would remember the dream and go back to following the three travellers.

But on that first night in the desert and for the first time in months, she did not dream of the city in the sand or of the dark pits of Mordor and her terrible experiences there. Instead, her dreams were of a small girl with dark hair and gold flecked brown eyes. She sat on the shoulders of a middle-aged man her arms out stretched pretending to fly as the man the girl’s father, ran bare foot across the golden sands. “One day my daughter you will be able to really fly like the eagles!” His smile was warm and filled with love.

The girl again this time older, she is with an older woman her name is being called, she is presented before the elders of her village, her father sits among then pride shining in his eyes, the girl then takes the form of a beautiful eagle. “Welcome Eagle Sister!” the elders smile together.

The girl is now a young woman and again she is before the Elders, this time a young man is at her side and they stare deeply into each other’s eyes. “Wolf brother and Eagle sister, bind themselves together as one. May their love and union strengthen the bonds between our clans?” The young man kisses the young woman tenderly.

Sorona woke to the second day with tears in her eyes realising that the young girl in her dreams was her or had been her a long time ago, before… she shook the thought away: she did not what to go back there, to the dark places in her mind where pain and darkness dwelled. Instead, she held on to the memories of her dreams, and continued to follow Ráma and her companions as the changed direction, and headed west.

Once the three companions had camped for the night on the second day, Sorona left and went in search of food; she caught several Jerboas and a lizard and was about to swoop down on an unsuspecting elephant shrew when something startled it and it scurried away. Annoyed that it got away she circled to see whom or what had frightened it away. A large adult male wolf padded across the dunes, its silvery grey back shining in the clear desert moonlight. Its cinnamon head bent to the sands, it was looking for something, but not food for it ignored any desert wildlife it came across, but it had the scent of something she thought as she watched it move through the dunes. She followed the beautiful creature with inquisitive curiosity, her eyes narrowing as she realised the wolf followed the path Rama and the Gondorians had travelled the previous day. It went some way and then sniffing the night air, it turned and went back in the direction it had just come. She followed silently, curious as to the creature’s strange behaviour.

Several hours later as the first light of dawn breached the dark horizon she saw a small camp, three horses and a man, his features hidden by a dark blue head scarf, that covered his head and face so that only his eyes could be seen. As the Wolf approached the camp, its shape shifted to that of a young man slightly shorter in stature than the other man and as he turned towards the other man, she gasped. It was the young merchant from the city he was a shape shifter like Rama. Was that why she was drawn to him and why his presence in the city had felt so wrong? These questions and many more assailed her as she flew back towards Rama, she was torn between telling the young woman about the two city merchants followed them and the strange protectiveness she felt for the young raven-haired man. She did not know what was going on so she decided that when she caught up to the others she would speak with Rama and perhaps things would become clearer.

It was the afternoon of the third day before she caught up to the Maenwaith woman and her companions; they were stopped by an old deserted well to rest their mounts and to quench their thirst. Sorona circled once and with a quiet squeal she swooped down to land gracefully before Rama, Her sharp eyes took in the surprised reflexive instincts of the northerners as their hands went to hilts, but she ignored them and turned to Rama.

“I would speak with you Desert sister,” she said in the common tongue dipping her head, recalling some ways of the desert people.

“I apologise for before, it has been a long time since I have had the need to speak with anyone and I fear the knowledge of the languages I have accumulated over the years got a little muddled, but I have had time to sort through them and now I think we need to speak.” Rama nodded but said nothing waiting for her to continue.

“A few things puzzle me and I hoped that you could help me to understand, I’m sure you have questions of your own and I will try to answer them if I can.”

“I will help if I can,” Rama answered.

“The first is the presence of maenwaith in the city of the dark men, a whole household, mostly merchants do you know why this is so? Then there is the lack of sightings of clan camps on our journey? And your friends, my memory is not as it was, but it is not common for… our people to travel with strangers?” she gave the two men a sideways glance but did not for now tell the woman that she had see these two men with the maenwaith she spoke of and that two of those merchants now followed them. Instead, she waited to hear what answers Rama offered her or if the men themselves would speak of the raven-haired merchant.



Child's post for Ráma:

Ráma stared at Sorona with a troubled expression on her face. The query about her two traveling companions was not wholly unexpected. In difficult times, maenwaith generally avoided the company of outsiders, especially when journeying deep into the desert to reach the safety of their clan.

Still, Sorona’s other comments had startled her. Why had the Eagle heard nothing of the large contingent of maenwaith who gathered in the city not merely to engage in trade but as active supporters of Wyrma and her grandiose plans? Their presence was common knowledge even to the youngest of her people. And why did Sorona still cling stubbornly to her Eagle shape rather than taking on her natural human form? Perhaps, the Gondorians made the maenwaith nervous, yet she did not fear to talk in front of them and reveal the fact that she was a great deal more than a simple beast.

A cautionary voice whispered inside Ráma’s head. If she confronted the Eagle directly with so many probing questions, the woman was likely to fly off and never return. For some reason Ráma did not entirely understand, she definitely did not want that to happen. There was a sadness in Sorona’s eyes as if the woman was missing a piece of her past and, without that piece, nothing else made any sense. Ráma could instinctively understand that. Moreover, she sensed a certain reticence on Sorona’s part, born not of fear but nervousness, as if she was unused to conversing with her own kind. She decided to tread softly and ask her mother or sister about this stranger once she arrived back at the clan.

For now she answered in a respectful tone, gesturing towards Mithadan and Airefalas who stood nearby. “These two are Gondorians. They are friends to the Eagle clan. They search for another maenwaith , a woman who is dear to them. They spoke the ancient words of friendship to me, so I am taking them to our clan to see if we can help.” Ráma stopped for a moment to introduce the men, and was pleased to note that their fingers were no longer curled tightly about their sword hilts and that they each stopped to make a courteous bow to acknowledge Sorona's presence.

“As to your other queries….perhaps you have been away from these parts for some time? I do not know the particular maenwaith you saw, but the Dragon clan and its leader Wyrma have gathered followers in the city. Many of these have forsaken the traditional maenwaith ways and choose to make their home inside that walled prison, working on various tasks that Wyrma assigns to them.”

Sorona said nothing but stared in disbelief as Ráma continued her explanation, “The missing tribes are no different. They have left the desert and follow Wyrma: some out of fear, others actually support her plans. And it is not only in Umbar that they live…” Ráma’s voice trailed off as she stared towards the north envisioning a cold grim shadow rising upward from the desert sand. “Wyrma builds her own fortified city north and west of here. She herds many clans inside its gates. I have heard my mother say that Wyrma’s real dream is not merely to rival Lord Falasmir, but one day to wield power so great that she could humble the mighty city of Minas Tirith. I do not know how she could do such a thing, but I do not doubt that she would try.” At this point, Ráma glanced briefly towards Mithadan and Airefalas and shrugged her shoulders to emphasize the point that there was little she could do to stop any of this.

Last edited by Child of the 7th Age; 06-06-2004 at 08:06 AM.
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