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Old 06-09-2004, 06:32 AM   #221
Ealasaide
Shadow of Tyrn Gorthad
 
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Airefalas listened quietly to the words of Westron that passed between the two shape changers, not entirely certain as to whether he and Mithadan were intended to be party to the conversation or not. He had bowed politely when introduced to the eagle, but then taken a few steps back so as not to intrude when he realized that the eagle had not been introduced to them. Their introduction to her, he realized, was done less out of social nicety than it was out of a need to set the newcomer at ease. Bearing that in mind, he retreated a short distance away to wait while the two shape changers spoke.

Curiosity, though, made him listen to what passed between them, and what he heard surprised him. For some reason, he had been under the impression that shape changers were rare, with only a few individuals scattered about here and there on their own. It was eye-opening to hear Ráma and the eagle speak of the shape changers in such numbers especially since he had not known they existed at all prior to his meeting with Ráma just a few days earlier.

"That's what I get for spending so much time at sea," he murmured to himself. "Miss all sorts of things."

Mithadan shot him a sharp glance, his face grim as he continued listening to Ráma's soft voice.

Airefalas quickly bit his tongue and resumed listening himself, realizing that if he did not pay attention, he could miss even more.

"Wyrma builds her own fortified city north and west of here," said Ráma. "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." As she finished, Ráma cast a glance in the direction of the two Gondorians, shrugging as though to say that there was little she could do to stop such an eventuality.

Mithadan and Airefalas exchanged a look, then Mithadan nodded, a slight smile touching the corners of his mouth. “I do not know how she could do such a thing either, but I guarantee that she will encounter much stronger opposition than she expects, otherwise she would recognize such wild ambition as the folly that it is.”

Ráma gave him a long, considering stare, then merely shrugged again. “Folly, perhaps, but Wyrma is not one who should be taken lightly, nor are her ambitions.”

“You mentioned that she is of the Dragon clan,” Airefalas interjected quietly. “Pardon my ignorance on the nature of your folk, but does this mean that this Wyrma can take on the shape of a dragon?”

Ráma hesitated for a fraction of a second, her gold-flecked eyes lingering for an instant on his green ones, then she shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said abruptly. “Perhaps I have said too much.” She turned and said something softly in her own dialect to the waiting eagle, then turned back toward him and Mithadan.

“There is much happening amongst my people that concerns them very much but, as yet, has very little to do with you and yours,” she explained. “I have allowed you to accompany me to my clan’s encampment so that you may seek your lost friend, but I must ask you not to pry into our affairs. My people are distrustful of strangers in normal times, but to have strangers such as yourselves poking about our camp now, when times are troubled, asking questions about our business would lead to much anger and suspicion.”

Airefalas nodded politely. “I understand, my lady, and offer my word that once we reach the encampment I shall mind my own business absolutely,” he promised. “But I do think that we are entitled to a bit more information now when there is no one around to upset but you, us, and the Eagle. It is hardly fair of you to mention a threat to our homeland - which by your own words, should not be taken lightly - then to turn around and tell us it’s none of our concern. It is our concern. We have a right to know what foe it is who threatens us.”

Ráma hesitated again, thinking, then nodded. “Yes,” she admitted slowly. “It is your concern, but it is of much more immediate concern to us. Please know that Wyrma is a powerful and dangerous individual. You would not want her for an enemy, but please do not press me just now for any more information than that.”

Airefalas opened his mouth to do just that, when he was stayed by Mithadan’s hand on his arm. He waited silently as Mithadan addressed Ráma.

“Wyrma...” said Mithadan. “She was the rather imposing woman who walked beside Lord Falasmir at the reception in Umbar, was she not?”

“She was,” answered Ráma.

“What position does she hold at Falasmir’s court?”

“To my knowledge, she is merely an advisor, but she uses him to consolidate her own power. When the time comes, if it is her whim, he will fall.”

“I see.” Mithadan nodded. He thanked Ráma for her candor, then watched as she excused herself and moved several paces away to exchange a few final words in privacy with the eagle. The conversation complete, the eagle spread her wings and took once more to the sky. A few minutes after that Ráma and the two northerners were once more mounted, Ráma on her horse, the Gondorians on their camels, riding southward. By Ráma’s estimation, they would arrive in the Eagle encampment within roughly two hours, which would be none too soon for Airefalas. His camel had a pronounced ornery streak and seemed, at best, only half-trained. The sooner he could put some distance between himself and the stubborn creature the better.

But the camel was not the primary concern on Airefalas’ mind. He spent most of the remainder of the journey mulling over all that he had heard and learned during the brief visit from the Eagle, both of the shape changers in general and of the building threat to his own homeland. Was it as serious as Ráma would have them believe? She seemed a level-headed enough individual, not at all the sort to go about spreading breathless and groundless rumor. Yet, on the other hand, it all seemed so far-fetched to him... a colony of shape changers threatening the sovereignty of Minas Tirith? Of Gondor? Oh, surely not. But if this Wyrma person and her followers could change into Dragons, well, that might be a considerable worry, even for Minas Tirith.

He looked over at Mithadan who rode beside him, also deep in thought. A thousand questions raced through his head, but he voiced none of them, his gaze shifting next toward Ráma, who, as usual, rode some distance ahead of him and Mithadan. How much did the girl really know? Ultimately, that was the question, but he had given his word not to pry, so his questions would have to remain unanswered for the time being. Sighing, Airefalas resolved to honor his word to Ráma and not ask too many questions upon arrival into her people’s encampment, but there was nothing to stop him from watching or listening. He had a feeling that there was much more happening and much more at stake than he could imagine.

Having finally exhausted that topic after an hour or so, he let his mind wander in the direction of Minas Tirith, wondering if the Lonely Star had made it back to port. He wondered, too, if his family or Isabel had been notified that he had not returned with the ship. Idly, he tried to imagine how they had reacted. His brother, Avarlond, probably wouldn’t even look up from his ledgers when he heard the news, but Isabel would miss him. For all her game-playing and capriciousness, she had a soft heart and, he believed, she was truly fond of him. Her father, on the other hand...

Airefalas frowned, thinking of the visit Isabel’s father had paid on him shortly before he had sailed with the Star. It had been an awkward conversation at best, her father using the excuse of the Amarantha fiasco to postpone Airefalas’ impending wedding to Isabel on the basis that Airefalas’ prospects were now too unstable. Until Airefalas could prove himself capable of providing for her, Isabel’s father had said at first, the ceremony could not take place, but the conversation had not ended there. Isabel’s father had gone on to pronounce the engagement over. It would be up to Airefalas to break the engagement formally upon his return from Umbar. If he refused, Isabel’s father would do it himself. Remembering, Airefalas felt a flush of frustration and anger. He wondered how the old man would respond when he heard that Airefalas had not returned at all. Probably with joy and smug satisfaction that he had been proven right after all. To Airefalas, the worst part about it was that, just as with the Amarantha, there was nothing he could have done to make things turn out differently. Well, he would get back eventually...

Just then, ahead of them, Ráma let loose with a joyous shout. Airefalas had been so absorbed in stewing about his impossible situation back home that he had failed to notice the large grouping of tents that had come into view as they crested a steep rise. Ráma urged her horse into a quick burst of speed, widening the distance between herself and the two Gondorians. When a pair tribesmen appeared from the shadow of one of the tents, waving to her, she slowed, turning her horse in their direction. She reached them just outside the fringes of the encampment, where she dismounted. The men pointed toward Airefalas and Mithadan, who still approached, holding their camels to a walk. Ráma gestured toward them as well, and though they were still outside hearing range, Airefalas could see that she was speaking rapidly. By the time the camels drew up behind her, several other tribesmen and women had joined the first two. The conversation, which was being carried out in the tribal dialect, sounded tense.

Exchanging a signal between the two of them, Mithadan and Airefalas both made their camels kneel and dismounted. Careful to keep their hands away from their weapons, they went to stand a short distance behind Ráma. Finally, she turned to them and gestured for them to follow as she moved on into the camp, leaving both her horse and the camels in the care of a young tribesman. The rest of the tribesmen and women followed Ráma and the two strangers into the camp, arguing loudly amongst themselves.

"Much has happened here since I had last had word," Ráma said to them in the common speech as quietly as possible above the din of the group that followed them. "There are people I need to see." She stopped in front of a large tent. "You wait here until I return," she told them, gesturing toward the open tent flap. "For your own safety, please do not wander off. I will be back as quickly as possible."

Last edited by Ealasaide; 06-15-2004 at 05:57 AM.
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