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Old 04-09-2004, 02:46 PM   #154
piosenniel
Desultory Dwimmerlaik
 
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Rôg

The silence that fell between the two companions hid the little bird’s anger. It had been with great restraint that he held back from taking a large chomp from the old man’s finger as it wagged within inches of his beak.

What right had this creature to judge him and his people . . .

‘How can you know right from wrong when you have forgotten all the tales and the wisdom they contain? Aiwendil had snapped out in a gruff, rebuking manner. Rog snorted at this accusation.

We have forgotten nothing!

Especially the ways that outsiders have dealt with us. Right and wrong! Pah!

Thoughts such as these had stewed in his mind until the two had cleared the sandy rise that led them to the little oasis. Changing back to mannish form, Rôg had unloaded their packs from the camel and spread a thickly woven rug on the sand for Aiwendil to rest. The old man seemed distracted, lost in his own thoughts. And tired, too. Once he had heard they were quite near the encampment he had lain down on his rug and gone quickly to sleep.

Rôg hunkered down beneath one of the palms, his back resting lightly against the fibrous trunk. He had gotten them this far, as Aiwendil had requested. When day came he would take the old man to the encampment and see him into their safekeeping. He looked west to where the mountains hid under the cover of night. He had information for his clan leader, and here in familiar surroundings he missed his family dearly.

The old man was snoring when Rôg flew off toward the encampment. The little bird planned to take a look-see about and bring his findings back to the old man - the sooner done, the sooner he would be free to leave on his own errand.

Last edited by piosenniel; 04-10-2004 at 01:41 AM.
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