[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Surinen

Surinen arrived at his Uncle Fador’s tent bearing freshly made bread the baker had immediately sent in care of his son when he first heard that a Gondorian sea captain and his first mate where in the midst of the eagle encampment, Indeed in the tent of his late wife's cousin. And though the old man had neither seen a ship nor set foot in the surf, he had heard of Gondor and seen how, along with the ascendance of this northern King the Haradrim raids had grown infrequent, the Eagles finding a short respite before their troubles began anew. And so lecturing his son on the importance of hospitality and caution, and the advantages of good first impressions, he had carefully wrapped the food, handing Surinen the stack of hot flat bread to be taken quickly before it grew cold, also giving him a bowl containing a sweet custard of streamed new milk, as a treat for the new comers. Then shooing the wiry outrider off with a wave of his hands, he had settled down beside the remains of his fire to enjoy peace as curiosity kept the women from gossiping around the bakers tent, as was usual this time of day.

But Surinen, his stomach pulling at itself at the tempting smell that emanated from this packet, rushed to the center of the camp, his fingers burning from the hot oil that soaked through the cloth as he made his way through the curious children and elders gathering about Fador’s tent. Having just returned from helping transport much needed water into the camp, he had not yet eaten and just as he had hoped to sit in the shade of his father’s tent and eat his meager portion, Dinsûl had sent him on this awkward errand. But he knew his father to be right in doing this, and despite his protests, Surinen was quietly pleased with Dinsûl’s kind ways, though not so sure about the beneficiaries of his good will. Still he wondered what could possess Ráma to bring such people here, and he hoped that she might guide them away again before the camp was moved. If she only knew of the troubles the last few days had brought upon her people, surely she would never have led the strangers here with the seriousness of her mother’s illness.

More than just hungry as he approached his cousin sitting outside her father’s tent, Surinen was feeling ill tempered and wished to find Narayad. For after the missing incense pot was found to have fallen out of his pack, indeed, it having been tampered with as well, his fellow outrider had been quickly replaced in his duties, and now wandered though camp awaiting the decision of the elders on what was to be done with him. For though he was still treated kindly, Narayad had mentioned he could feel their eyes upon him. And even Latah had been gently informed that now Ayar was no longer in her own tent, she would not be needed to assist the leader until such time when a new tent could be raised for her. These things Narayad, in his frustration had confided to Surinen, brooding in his inactivity. And Surinen turned to pondering how he might be able to help his friend.

As he walked past the guards posted outside the door, Latah smiled at at her cousin warmly from her position outside the tent and opened a beaten brass container for him to place the bread in before setting it on the ground with top ajar, taking the bowl also. “Thank you cousin,” she said, lifting the cloth from over top of the bowl. “What is this? You would honor our guests with first milk?”

“A goat gave birth today, and Dinsûl would have me bring it to them. But where Ráma, that I may welcome her home?” Surinen asked.

“She left in a great hurry,” Latah said. “Even I have not even been able to greet her.”

“And Narayad?”

Latah’s smile faded. “I do not know where he is, and he is growing more troubled each day. Suri, I am afraid it is too much for him to bear, waiting for this judgment upon him. The elders and Ayar have all had too much to occupy their thoughts”, she said nodding over her shoulder at the elders and the tent behind her. "Yet we are to be patient, and trust their wisdom.”

The sorrow in her voice drove home to his heart, so that feeling uncomfortable he wished to change the subject. “Then since your husband is not here, perhaps there is food to spare for a poor relative,” he said hopefully. And seeing that she hesitated, explaining that she had not expected so much company, he continued in a loud whisper, “Surely you are not planning to poison these strangers, cousin!” To which Latah, pulling the cloth from off her shoulder beat him with it before using it to open the lid of her steaming vessel.

“It is not done yet cousin,” she said with the most sinister look she could muster. “But when the poison has reached it’s fullness, be sure I will give you the first bowl!”

Surinen laughed to see her spirit. "And I will finish every drop, dear cousin." Then walking further around the tent he quite comfortably assumed the shape of a dog, more or less ignoring the upheaval about him. There would plenty of people about to keep a look out for mischief.

Digging a cool niche in the ground before he circled down to wait for either his food or his friend to arrive, he rested his chin on the ground watching his kinsmen as they came and went, having half a mind to eavesdrop on the muffled conversation he heard inside the tent. But as he tried to distinguish among the voices, a shadow passed across his muzzle.

Lifting his gaze to the sky, he saw a large eagle circling overhead, as if something in the camp was of interest to it. In panic he thought of young Miri, and when the bird dropped swiftly behind Fador’s tent, Surinen sprung to his feet slipping behind it. Greatly relieved to find that the eagle had not sighted prey, but stood looking briefly disoriented in the maze of tents, the dog noted the intruder’s unfamiliar scent, and wondered if it was truly a bird at all or perhaps Rôg, but there was no sign of his escort. And to Surinen's alarm the bird started moving toward Fador’s tent.

With a deep growl growing in the back of his throat, Surinen’s hackles rose. “Who are you?” he questioned stepping forward slowly with his lips curled tightly back. “I do not recognize your markings.”

The creature froze, and Surinen felt thankful that he might not have to feel the clutch of those cruel talons. “Friend, I am a friend. I travel with Ráma and her Northern companions,” the bird finally spoke with a wavering voice. Spoke in Surinen’s own tongue, declaring her name to be Sorona, and her desire to speak with the leader and the clan’s elders.

What has Ráma done! Surinen thought. And who else will show up on our doorstep!

Suddenly he heard someone exclaim “Radagast” from the other side of the tent followed quickly by the sound of unsheathing swords, and saw out of the corner of his eye Rôg running toward the tent followed closely by his escort. Worried for Latah’s safety and not wishing to lose track of this newest discovery, Surinen began to bark for all he was worth. Is seemed the most natural thing to do at the time, but Sorona jumped back several steps flapping her wings, and in his confusion the sudden urge to catch this creature overpowered Surinen’s good sense. Running at her, the mottled dog gently but firmly grabbed her leg in his mouth and lay down with closed eyes, awaiting the piecing blow from her free leg, but determined to keep her from flying away, muttering from his full mouth, “I'm sorry, but don’t go. Not yet, don’t leave,” as he thought painfully about his father’s lecture on first impressions.