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Old 10-18-2004, 10:53 AM   #303
Ealasaide
Shadow of Tyrn Gorthad
 
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Location: The Fencing Lyst
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Nerindel's Post: Korpulfr

It was quite late in the afternoon when Korpulfr finally awoke. Slowly opening his eyes he rose a dusty hand to shield against the glare of the westerning sun. Turning his head he saw the lean form of Tinar tending the dusty gelding he and Hasrim had conscientiously thought to bring for the young wyrmling, two more horses, packed and saddled stood nearby under the cool shade of the rocky overhang. The first a sand coloured gelding was his own mount and the other was the tan steed that Hasrim rode, looking around he suddenly became aware that his cousin was nowhere to be seen. Brushing the fine layer of sand that covered him from head to toe, he rose and headed towards his young friend.

“Any to spare for a parched friend?” he asked jovially seeing that the young Meanwaith was watering the horses.

Tinar’s head turned to greet him with a broad smile, “So you’ve finally decided to join us, I was beginning to think you would sleep the whole day away,” the young man laughed handing him the half filled water skin.

He drank deeply wetting his dry cracked lips, “Where’s Hasrim, you haven’t talked him to death have you?” he grinned handing the skin back to his young companion.

“Talk! I don‘t think he would have heard me even if I did?” Tinar said cocking a bemused eyebrow, “he spent most of the morning deep in thought, muttering to himself as he packed his own and your mount, then a few hours ago he said he was going out to look for fresh water and to scout out the desert movement, movement! I ask you for days I’ve see nothing out here but the sea of sand.” he continued shaking his head.

Kor laughed clapping Tinar on the shoulder, “Ha my friend that’s my cousins way, always thinking ahead and if he was here I am sure he would now be giving you a quick lecture on the unseen dangers of the desert.”

“Then I am glad he is not here,” the young man laughed jovially.

As they waited Hasrim’s return the two men finished making preparations to leave and enjoyed a cold supper of flat bread and salted pork, the conversation remained light and cheery like two young friends simply enjoying each others company with no political or outside influence at work, but as the sun began to sink below the western horizon the talk turned again to the matters at hand and the barely perceivable guardedness of each man returned.

“You must make sure your mother hears of the death of the eagle leader and the arrival of the northerners to their camp, it may all be coincidental but let her know that I will remain to make sure!” Kor said turning to look the young man squarely in the eyes. Tinar paused for a moment then nodded and as Kor turned away the young man asked him if he had any message for his father.

“Just let him know that I am fine and know what I am doing.” he answered after a moments contemplation. Tinar frowned not understanding and Kor shook his head and explained, “He has his grievances with the eagle clan, he still holds them someway responsible for my mothers death and won’t be please to heard that I am here!” he sighed wearily.

“And you?” Tinar asked cautiously, “Do you too think they are at fault?”

“hmm I don’t know… maybe they could have helped or maybe not I really don’t know it all happened so fast… I… only re…..” with a shake of his head Korpulfr stopped talking and got up and began to walk away.

“Where is that cousin of mine it is time we where away from here before we are discovered by outriders!” he said decisively changing the subject and looking out into the distant darkening horizon. But he could not hide from the memory that haunted him, clinging to the branches and safety of the trees as his mother was hauled off dying by the crimson warriors, he swore to himself not long after that day that never again would he hide from those who would attack his people, he would be strong, but still he felt like he had not upheld that promise, hiding in the city of his enemy at the insistence of the very people he wished to protect. With a heavy sigh he walked up to the sandy gelding and lightly scratching the animals ear he re-checked the straps adjusting his pack and the saddle baskets that carried the goods for trade, while he waited for his cousins return.

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Ealasaide's Post: Fador

As the sun set deep into the western horizon and the singing began around the bier of Ayar, Fador took his place amongst the other elders. Though he carried a small hand drum with him, he neither drummed nor sang along, but sat quietly, listening as the various singers raised their voices in praise of the fallen leader, framing stories from her life and the lives she had touched during the tenure of her leadership in graceful song. Finally, as evening began to edge toward night, he rose from his place and slipped silently away into the darkness. He had not slept in over thirty-six hours and the lack of sleep was beginning to wear at him. He needed to be alone, to collect his thoughts. To plan what to do next. So much had happened between Ayar’s passing, the arrival of the foreigners, and the strangely timed return of the eagle, Sorona, that he hardly knew what to make of it all. He had spent so much of the last night and day in moving back and forth amongst the other elders, smoothing the way for the transfer of power from Ayar to the young people who were to take her place, that he had scarcely had a moment to himself. Now, with nearly everyone occupied by the bier, he finally felt as though he could take a breath of air for himself.

Wrapping his long robe tightly around him, Fador walked swiftly to edge of the camp, where he hesitated, gazing up at the darkening sky. How easy it would be to take to the sky now, to beat his wide wings and leap into the night wind in the shape of a golden eagle. To fly... A grim smile touched his weathered features. It had been too long since he had taken that shape and flown amongst the clouds, caressing the wind with his very fingertips. Why had he let so much time pass? Why had he preferred his other shapes to the one most treasured by the people of his clan? He wondered if it were not guilt at his own anger toward his clan, or failing that, merely stubborn pique. Either way, he suddenly understood that he had let too many days pass. Glancing back in the direction of the bier, he knew that now was not the time to make up for lost time either. Early in the afternoon of that day, around noon, a strange, great eagle had sailed gracefully around the bier twice, calling out a challenge to the winds. He had watched with the same air of awe and curiosity as his maenwaith kin, but had felt no urge to answer the challenge, at least not yet. To take to the air now could perhaps go unnoticed. On the other hand, if it were to be seen as an answer to the great eagle’s challenge - if that’s what it was - that would not do.

He turned and, on conscious impulse, began to walk in the direction the great eagle had flown in its departure. He needed to think, to find an answer to the questions that plagued him of what to do next, how to approach the foreigners, how to use them. Perhaps an answer lay out there among the swaying savannah grasses, perhaps not, but if he could at least find a bit of clarity, it would help. He quickened his step, moving swiftly and deliberately away from the encampment, his mind buried deeply within his own thoughts.

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Nerindel's Post: Hasrim

The quiet sound of leathery wings flapping against the cool evening air echoed in small furry ears as a small heart drummed with each exuberant beat, the ears twitched as the sound of raised voices whispered on the light winds of the Haradwaith desert, murmuring of sadness and of loss. But as the small desert bat drew closer, the sadness melted away to joy and praise bringing a dark and menacing scowl to the creatures dark features. Small beady eyes that should see very little, infact carefully scanned the horizon as the lightly billowing tents of the Eagle encampment drew steadily closer, carefully flying between the many tents avoiding the gaze of the sullen but vigilant outriders and guards the small bat looked for a familiar face.

The actual camp was strangely still, with nearly all the clan gathered at the brier of their fallen leader only the stragglers and those chosen to keep guard still remained, so he flew on following the voices cringing as they praised the wisdom and kindness of their fallen leader. Wisdom! Too live in the past and remain victims of the power and greed of others pfft…. But off course the eagles were never victims, they ran and hid while others died and suffered at the hands of the Haradrim and their dark master! feelings of great hatred and bitterness suddenly filled the small creatures mind and it struggled to hold on to the image at the forefront of it’s mind the one that kept him in the air unrecognised and unnoticed, he perched in a nearby tree and took a deep steadying breath, pulling the image forward once more, reminding himself of the purpose of this visit. Looking out from between the leaves he saw a familiar figure rise and move away from the others. With a wry grin the small bat again leaped into the air following discreetly the dark robed figure.

He stopping to watch as the robed figure hesitated at the edge of the camp, silently witnessing the older mans grim smile as he gazed up at the darkening sky in contemplative thought, but the small bat was forced to move quickly as the robed figure briefly glanced back towards the funeral brier of the woman he had helped to murder! Irony twisted the bats lips into a sly and cruel grin as he wondered if old fool was having doubts or regrets, for he knew it was already too late for the old eagle! for if it was discovered that he was in any way responsible for the death of his leader he would most certainly be cast out if not worse! But to betray Wyrma or her allies would be an even greater folly he had now witnessed how easily and deadly the old Wyrm could strike! As the figure walked on he followed, then when the camp was firmly out of sight he choose to speak.

“The wind whispers of ill tidings a great eagle has fallen and it’s clan stands leaderless!” He squeaked coming close to the Elders ear .

The figure stopped but did not turn, “The winds do indeed speak the truth, but not for long do the eagles remain flightless and without leadership!”

Flying around to come before the older man the bat let go of it’s current form to reveal the middle aged Wolf clan warrior. “Greetings to you Fador, wolf friend!” he said with the customary hand to forehead gesture of his clan his eyes firmly fixed on the older man revealing neither true hostility nor friendship, this man may have his uncles trust but he would reserve that judgement for himself.

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Ealasaide's Post: Fador

A look of annoyance flitted across Fador's face as he raised his hand to his forehead, returning the greeting of the man of the Wolf Clan who suddenly appeared before him, casting off the shape of a bat. "Greetings, wolf," Fador said coolly, studying the man‘s face. He noticed the way the other man's eyes betrayed nothing, neither hostility nor friendship, nor even the respect due to an elder of any clan. What he saw was cool appraisal and icy reserve, as though the man were sizing him up. Judging him. Fador’s dark eyes narrowed. Arrogance.

“It is with surprise that I recognize you, Hasrim,” he said, recovering his composure. “I remember you from your uncle’s house. I hope that my friend, your uncle, is well. But what brings you here to the Eagles at such a time as this? I am not fool enough to think that is mere coincidence.”

A dry flicker of amusement showed behind Hasrim’s eyes for an instant before he answered. “You are very wise indeed,” he said, with the faintest hint of sarcasm touching his voice. “I came on the trail of the northerners, whom I believe you are harboring in your camp. In fact, I know you hold them there.”

“You followed them from Umbar?”

“I did.”

“Then I take it Wyrma has an interest in these men,” said Fador. The annoyance that had spiked up in his heart at the sight of Hasrim began to subside as an idea began to take shape in Fador’s mind. He had left the ceremony at Ayar’s bier in order to seize a few moments to himself, to try to clear his mind of clutter and address the many problems and issues that had confronted him since Ayar’s death. He had been angry when Hasrim had destroyed his solitude, but now Fador felt a new clarity, one that came with decision. If Wyrma wants these men...

One of the matters that had been troubling Fador most had been how to redeem his position in Wyrma’s eyes if it ever came to her attention the way he had nearly botched her assassin’s flawless work by setting fire to Ayar’s tent as the Eagle leader lay dying. If it had not been for that bit of foolishness, Ayar’s death might have been passed off as the result of illness or an unfortunate insect bite. The fire had raised suspicions and thrown the entire Eagle clan into a state of heightened awareness and anger. If only communications with Umbar had been more regular! He might have known that Ayar’s illness had been the work of an assassin and not interfered, but the information had come too late. And, even then, it had not come from Umbar. Perhaps now, the lack of communication with Umbar could work in his favor. Fador knew that he had made a horrible, horrible mistake in setting the fire, which he knew that Wyrma would not let pass unnoticed or unpunished. He also knew that if he wished to maintain favor with the great Wyrm, he would have to do something quickly to eclipse his mistake, something that ordinarily would have won him great favor. If word of his good deed arrived to Wyrma before, or even simultaneously, with word of his mistake, all would not be lost. In fact, Fador had a feeling that not only his ambitions, but his life depended on it.

“Yes, Wyrma does have an interest in these men,” Hasrim was saying. “A great interest. As you well know, her ambitions do not stop at the borders of Umbar.”

“Then tell her,” said Fador, giving the other man a calculated smile which did not reach his eyes. “I will make a gift of them. They will be in her hands before the rising of the new moon.

“I will send them to the walled city, accompanied only by a guide and a few handpicked men. My men will know what to do. If you wish to follow, as apparently are your instructions, I will send word as to the hour of their departure.”

Hasrim delivered a short, leisurely bow. “You are too kind. I shall send word to Wyrma of your gift at once that she may prepare a welcome for them. When do you plan to see them on their way?”

“Perhaps as early as tomorrow night. Or the morning following at the latest. I will see that you are alerted, if you will tell me how to contact you.”

Hasrim gave Fador a long, considering look, as though deciding whether or not this was some sort of treachery or a trap. Finally, coming to a decision, he nodded. “Come to this spot as the sun sets tomorrow. I will be waiting.”

Fador nodded. “It will be done.” He began to make his departure, but stopped as something else occurred to him. There had been other strangers in the Eagle camp in the past few days besides the Gondorians. Was Hasrim aware of them as well? Had he seen, for instance, the two strange maenwaith who had arrived as Ayar lay dying? He suspected them of removing the broken incense pot, which had later turned up in poor Narayad's pack, from the smoking ruin of Ayar's tent. In Fador's opinion, they had been the only ones who could have done such a thing. But how had they known to plant the pot with Narayad? Fador himself could not have chosen a better patsy. Coincidence, perhaps, but upon deeper reflection, it hinted to him of a deeper knowledge of the workings of the Eagle clan than Fador was comfortable with. Who had sent them? And why? Why, indeed... there was also the return of Sorona with all of her dark talk of dreams and visions, death and destruction, which had excited the council of elders so. Why had her arrival coincided so closely with the arrival of the others? Were they working together? Fador paused and looked back at Hasrim.

“There is one more thing I should mention," he said, as though on a casual afterthought. "One of our clan who had married into yours years ago before the Haradrim raids has returned from exile. She is trapped in the shape of an eagle, but seems to have only a sketchy memory of her past.” He paused, watching Hasrim for a reaction. “Her name is Sorona. She arrived as Ayar lay dying and has been filling the ears of whomever will listen with warnings of death to any who embrace the stone city. It seems she has had visions from the Dreamtime.” For the moment, he decided, he would keep the presence of the other two strange maenwaith to himself.

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Nerindel's Post: Hasrim

Hasrim’s eyes studied the eagle elder with mild curiosity as the older man paused in his departure, hesitant as though something more had just come to mind. He waited patiently for Fador to speak, believing with smug satisfaction that he was about to tell him of the strange old man Korpúlfr had seen walking about the eagles camp, but what Fador revelled to him soon wiped that grin from his broad face as shock and utter disbelief filled his mind! Before even Fador had uttered the eagles name he knew of whom he spoke for there had only ever been one union that he knew of between their clans…But how could this be she perished with the others, Korpulfr saw her die…or did he? he thought as he struggled to understand how this could be so. Only once had Korpulfr spoke to him of his mothers death and all that he would say was that he had seen the Haradrim kill her!

“Are you certain that it is really her and not some impostor taking her name, an enemy perhaps wishing to exploit your clans tragic situation!” He asked regaining his composer.

“No I am certain it is her she may be trapped in avian form but her manner is unmistakably that of the daughter of Thoronda” Fador replied “That same annoying ability to hold others with her words !” he thought bitterly as he reassured him that it was indeed her.

Suspicion soon over took Hasrim’s initial surprise, Why here? Why now? And where had she been all these years? His eyes narrowed as he thought on these questions and more . “It is not entirely known to us what became of the Meanwaith that were taken by the Haradrim and until now it was widely believe that they had all perished.” he carefully informed Fador. “But it was rumoured that those captured had been taken not to the city of the corsairs but further north to the dark mountains!” Hasrim did not have to say any more for Fador to realise of the place he spoke and of the dark shadow that had once consumed that land.

“You do not think she is to be trusted?” Fador mused as he too contemplated the timing of her arrival.

“who can say?” Hasrim shrugged, “It maybe that she is indeed having visions from the dreamtime…. But who is to say that there is not some external factor at work, even if she was in the dark land and managed to survive, was it not the northerners and their allies who overthrew it’s dark master….” pausing for a moment he let these thoughts settle in the elders mind before continuing.

“I will inform Wyrma of the eagles return, but I suggest that until you hear otherwise you should keep a close eye on this eagle and discourage any idea’s that she may have about travelling to the city, her presence with all her talk of dreamtime could be unsettling for our allies as well as our enemies. It should be discredited were possible… perhaps finding out where she has been all these years may be of help!” he suggested slyly. “Tomorrow then” Fador grudgingly nodded before finally taking his leave.

Hasrim remained a moment longer the news of Sorona’s return was more troubling that he had let on to Fador, should Korpulfr so much as hear rumour that she was alive he would most certainly look for her, this he could not allow all her talk of danger and doom would ruin everything! No as far as Korpulfr was aware she was dead and that is how it would remain and if she tried to interfere he would just have to deal with her as he did his grandfather! With a last contemptuous look in the direction of the eagle camp he turned, assuming again the form of the small bat and started back towards his own camp to tell his cousin of his advantageous encounter.

Last edited by Ealasaide; 02-07-2005 at 10:13 AM.
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