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Old 06-29-2004, 08:32 PM   #235
Nerindel
Spirited Weaver of Fates
 
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Sorona

For an uncomfortable moment that seemed like an eternity to Sorona the two creatures simply looked at each other. She waited nervously for the Maenwaith to make up his mind about her, but before the dog could make his decision, a cry rose up within the camp.

“Radagast!” Sorona instinctively turned her head recognising the Adunaic name of an old man to whom she owed her life, But as her eyes searched for the recipient of the name the dog before her suddenly began barking loudly. Startled she jumped back, flapping her wings in panic, Gripped with terror she instinctively turned to escape the dog’s threatening presence, but the dog rushed at her, grabbing one of her legs in its strong powerful looking jaws. She closed her eyes fearfully losing her balance and falling beak first to the sandy ground. Her heart drummed furiously as she slowly opened her eyes realising that her canine captor held her leg gently in its great maw, wishing only to restrain her, not to harm her.

“I’m sorry, but don’t go. Not yet, don’t leave,” the Maenwaith, muttered though a mouthful of her leg. Her heart still pounding with fear she slowly nodded her golden head.

“I will let you go now, but please don’t fly away,” the dog continued hesitantly.

“You have my word,” Sorona returned nervously, not knowing if her word would mean anything to these people, her people she reminded herself sadly. Were things that bad that they even treated their own kind with suspicion and distrust, yes Rama had warned her that this was so, but to actually witness it was more disheartening that she could have ever imagined. She wished Rama was here at least then she could convince her captor that she was no threat to him or his clan. It seemed though that her word was enough, the dog slowly released its gentle grip and as she shook the sand from her feathers, he stepped back and took the form of a slight, wiry young man. His dark eyes regarded her expectantly for a moment, as if he was waiting for her to do something. His gaze then turned to a bemused frown the same look she had seen several times on Rama’s face when they had spoken together, only this young man made no move to hide his confusion as he stared at her intently. Suspicion again beginning to show on his warmly toned face. Then it dawned on her, he was waiting for her to take on a mannish form.

“Of course, it must be customary to address each other in their mannish form,” she muttered to herself the words coming out in the more comfortable tongue of the eagles. She was suddenly aware how rude she must have seemed to the young Mainwaith woman and now to this young man. Her shoulders slumped but she raised her head so her gold-flecked eyes met his.

“It is your custom to address each other in this form?” she sighed, indicating his new form. The young man nodded his head confused further by this question. Still struggling with a language that she had not used in 18 years, she continued,

“This form is all I have known for many years,” The young mans eyes widened in surprise,

“But why would…,” he begun, but Sorona gently cut him off raising a wing and shaking her head.

“Part from necessity, part out of fear,” was the only answer she would give, to speak more was yet too painful and the memories too broken to make any real sense.

“Regardless to say that any other forms that I may have once taken are now nothing but distant memories. I have tried to recall the image of the woman I once was, but so far to no avail.” She did not convey to him the pain and regret that came with trying to recall the images of her former self. Nor of the doubt that she had that, she would ever be able to take the mannish form of her past.

“It is not my intention to be rude and I know that I am the intruder here, but I must ask you to have patience with this old bird, I give you my word that I will not leave unless I am asked to do so,” she paused for a moment considering weather or not to say more,

“I believe that ….” she hesitated, still unsure of exactly what she believed, or if she should burden this complete stranger with the portent of an impeding danger, that she still wasn’t sure was real or not!
“I have been away to long,” she sighed, deciding to keep the contents of her dreams for the chosen wise ones of the clan. The young man looked anxiously between her and the commotion still ensuing outside the Gondorians tent.

“I too should like to find out what is going on,” she offered cautiously. The young man paused for a moment then nodded curtly, keeping close to her as they started forward. “My name is Surinen,“ the young man informed her as they gently pushed through the gathering crowd, many of the Maenwaith stopping to stare at the eagle walking by the outrider’s side, but she paid them no heed intent on the two men at the centre of the disturbance.

“Thorondil,” she whispered recognising the old man. The Captain was relaying his escape from the city of the Corsairs and Sorona found herself thankful that he had not mentioned the little raven or his household. she already knew that she would have to eventually asked the captain what he knew about them, but it could wait she would speak with the Istar, seeking his counsel if he would give it. But not here or now with so many people about and she could not be certain that the Istar would even remember her. Instead as the old man turned wearily to leave, she stayed with her escort as she had promised.

“Who leads the clan?” she asked realising that she did not even know the name of the person to whom she would relay her dark warning.
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