[Child of the 7th Age]

Ráma

Ráma had dallied at the Cat's Paw as long as she had dared. She had tried on two different gowns for that evening's reception and then packed away the last of her provisions anticipating an early departure in the morning. With considerable reluntance, she left the Inn and, mounted on Kyelek, headed back towards the palace at a slow lope, taking as long as she could manage to find her way across the city.

Showing her credentials at the gate, Ráma readily approached the reception area, observing that the main hall was already spilling over with guests. A throng of traders crowded around the strangers, attempting to impress the men from Gondor with the quality of their wares. The first thing Rama noticed was that she was virtually the only female in attendance. All of the onlookers were men, most of them wearing the heavy robes that were reserved for the members of Umbar's wealthiest guilds. In this situation Ráma felt doubly out of place, both as a woman, and as a member of the desert tribes whom the established merchants regarded with little favor.

Dozens of male eyes turned greedily to the entrance as Ráma ambled from the outside courtyard towards the center of the hall. The young woman shifted uncomfortably and stared down towards the ground. Male or female, no member of her own clan would willingly draw public attention in such an open fashion. There was always the risk that someone from outside might inquire too closely as to who she really was.

Ráma tugged nervously on the edge of her embroidered vest, reflecting that she should have dressed more soberly, since there were so few women or desert dwellers in attendance. The Men of Umbar were protective of their wives and daughters, discouraging them from attendance at official functions. Undoubtedly these strangers from across the seas had similar restrictive customs. Thank goodness, her own people had more wisdom than that. Strict separation of the genders made no sense when both men and women were equally capable of taking on the most powerful forms.

At least she did not have to worry about pushing her wares. The men of Gondor probably had little appreciation or knowledge of horseflesh and would scarcely want to bother with crafting a stall on their ship for the comfort of her animals. And, frankly, she would not want to sell them to strangers. It was bad enough having to trade her beloved stallions to the aristocrats of Umbar. Sending them far across the seas to a distant, unknown land would be even worse.

Resigned to spending an evening of boredom, Ráma carefully avoided those few merchants attempting to engage her in conversation. Instead, she quietly retreated to a small balcony that jutted out over the palace gardens. Perched on a chair beside the stone balustrade, she stared up at the stars, counting the minutes till the reception ended when she could resume her journey homeward and be reunited with family and kin.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:08 AM January 19, 2004: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]