[piosenniel]

Rôg

‘. . . a silver and black winged dragon . . .’

The man from Gondor’s words seemed to echo riotously in Rôg’s brain. His hands trembled, their grips loosening on the tray of melon slices he had clung to during the man’s description of his friend. The tray clattered to the ground, the slices scattering.

Bird . . . that is what Mithadan had called her. Rôg rolled the name around on his tongue. Try as he might, he could recall no one with that name in the clan lists.

A sharp tug on his sleeve brought his attention back to the tent. Miri hissed at him, pulling him across the room. She left her own tray near Airefalas and had gathered up the spill, piling it helter-skelter on the dropped tray. Nudging Rôg out the back flap of the tent, she urged him toward the midden, telling the guard that they were needing to be rid of an unfortunate melon that had been spilled on the floor.

‘You lied!’ she whispered harshly to him as they scraped the broken slices onto the heap. ‘Why did you act surprised that the man’s friend could take on those shapes? And why did you say you have never known a maenwaith who could take on more than four shapes?’

‘I did lie. I’ll not try to tell you differently. For my part though, I was surprised that she took on such different shapes and that number. It is rare, or so I have learned, for one of the tribes of maenwaith here in the south to take on that number of forms and that range of changes. And the way the man described her telling how she did so shows she is untutored in her skills. For someone so untaught as she must be, she has a rare talent . . . but a dangerous one, since she has no understanding of the process.’

‘Dangerous?’ asked Miri, a perplexed look on her face.

‘Yes, dangerous, because the form can overtake the changer and become permanent if care is not taken. That’s why I made you practice the change-back rhyme as well as teaching you to change.’

Miri nodded her head at this as they walked back toward the tent. ‘But why did you lie, Rôg?’

‘Rama’s sister did not want to believe me when I spoke with her about the ability to do changes. I doubt Rama would care to hear me blather on either about how four changes need not be a limit. I didn’t want to stir things up – I just voiced the common sentiments in your clan, hoping the man would keep on speaking. His friend sounds to be an interesting person. Don’t you think so?’

‘Well, yes, she did,’ agreed the girl as they neared the tent. She stopped, causing him to halt also, and looking up with her eyes narrowed, asked another question. ‘Why did you drop the tray of melon slices, though, there at the end? You know, when the man said his friend could become a dragon?’ Miri fixed him with an unrelenting stare, awaiting his answer.

Rôg, instead, drew back the back tent flap, and ushered her in with his hand to her back. ‘We should offer another round of tea, I think, to the guests. There will be time later for an answer to your last question.’ He picked up the teapot and marched forward, Miri following in his wake. If I’m lucky, she will forget her question he thought to himself. But I am never that lucky he argued, feeling the weight of her considering stare on him as he passed from guest to guest . . .