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Old 07-01-2004, 04:00 PM   #238
piosenniel
Desultory Dwimmerlaik
 
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Rôg

Rôg withdrew a short distance from where Aiwendil had paused to speak with the man. He kept his eye on the fellow, looking for any display of hostility toward his companion. But the old man seemed comfortable enough with the one he had named Mithadan, and Rôg fell to thinking where he had heard the name before.

The ship! That was it – the one that Aiwendil had wanted to hire to bring them south . . . the one that was unavailable . . . so the Elf had said. Ah, yes – the Elf. Piosenniel, as Aiwendil had just said. Rôg recalled his glimpse of her in the Inn in Minas Tirith. Menacing, for all her fair appearance, he thought, as she faced off with that Beorning. Rôg shivered at the old fellow’s assessment of the couple. . . . people of honor, but wherever they go, trouble follows . . .

The conversation between Aiwendil and Mithadan was brief, and near the end, Rôg moved closer to the pair to offer his arm to the old man. Aiwendil looked tired, both in body and spirit. Rôg heard his companion say that he would see Mithadan later over dinner and he caught his warning to the man that the captain and his first mate had come into a dangerous situation, a ‘boiling cauldron set to explode', as he termed it. For a moment, as they stepped away from the man’s tent, Rôg thought of asking Aiwendil to come away with him, leaving these problems behind.

But then he recalled his little promise to Miri. Besides her pleasure at having learned another shape, she had referenced briefly in the conversation her family’s and her own fear of what was happening. The clan leader very ill; the threat of those of the maenwaith who sought to impose their ways on the Eagle clan; the unspoken fear she had picked up from her parents’ hushed conversations that something very, very bad might happen if they weren’t careful. It troubled him greatly that his little friend should have to bear a burden such as this. But he remained unclear about what help he could or should offer . . .

Aiwendil muttered peevishly under his breath as they walked away from Mithadan’s tent, Rôg’s escort dutifully trailing behind. Rôg leaned toward his companion and spoke low so that his words remained private between them. ‘Is there something I might help you with?' he asked. 'Something that troubles you?' Receiving no reply, save a long, weary sigh, the younger man went on. 'I know you have been visiting with the clan leader these past days, Aiwendil . . . and I am wondering, what does she say of this threat to her clan? And the Elders, why do they not come in to assist their people? For the life of me, I cannot fathom this.’

Aiwendil halted and stepped back to peer into the young man’s face. From his tired visage, the old man’s crystal blue eyes flashed in a measured and considering manner. Rôg, supposing his companion’s look might mean he would choose not to answer fully, touched Aiwendil lightly on his forearm.

‘I spoke with Narika and Thorn, as you know. Soon, I need to visit my own clan; there are things my clan leader asked me to do and I need to let him know what I have found and done. You are welcome to stay here with the Eagles, Narika and Thorn have said so to me, until I return.’ He paused for a moment, looking thoughtfully at Aiwendil. The old fellow was a difficult one to gauge when he fell deep into himself, as he seemed to have now. ‘I have some decisions to make,’ he went on, ‘and questions to ask of my own Elders before I return.’ He paused once again. ‘But I need to have some information with which to frame my questions . . .’

Last edited by piosenniel; 07-04-2004 at 01:40 PM.
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