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Old 01-24-2004, 08:40 AM   #77
Hilde Bracegirdle
Relic of Wandering Days
 
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Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: You'll See Perpetual Change.
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Sting

Thorn

Exhausted from his sprint down hill, the desert rat was relieved to find that the journey’s end was at an inn bearing the sign of a crescent moon that lay close to the base of the hill, and not further. As he skirted the building looking for an inconspicuous place to enter – for it did not look the type of place to entertain rodents – he found himself wondering what move the Wyrm had in mind and how might it be frustrated. For the other clans must hear that they need not follow this one who had no regard for the traditions that had kept the people safe though he ages. And they must see that it was possible to resist her leadership, choosing instead the ancient ways of their kind.

The Eagle clan were not a tame people, nor would they ever be domesticated, no matter how tempting a prize might be set before them. Surely they would sicken and die if they were to be penned in a city such as Umbar, living side by side with the unfortunate ones who had not their gift, nor the understanding of it, but endlessly built and struggled to fill this small patch of ground, with the wealth that would some day crush them under its weight. And one cannot easily fly free, encumbered with such burdens.

Yes, the leader of eagles can see far ahead, he thought to himself, and her sight is clear…. Ah, and there at last, I see my way into this promising package! He scurried to where an open gutter ran along the street, and following a narrow trench leading from it, Thorn disappeared under the greenery planted beside the trench, entering the kitchen of the Crescent Moon through a drainage hole in its wall. The whole floor slanted gently toward the dark and damp corner room where he appeared among the dirty vessels waiting to be scrubbed. The floor was slippery as he made his way among the jumble of large clay pots of water lining the wall, searching for the right moment to make a dash for the doorway, and the common room.

But when he finally rounded the corner he saw that the common room stood nearly empty, and a worker was polishing the tiles. Turning away from it, he headed for the darkened hallway, and paused sitting up to sniff the air. She was here somewhere, he thought to himself, but how to find her? Just then an attendant approached, bearing a tray in one hand and a lamp in the other. Thorn quickly hid in the shadows as the man walked by and following him, he watched as he stopped at a stout wooden door and rapped on it lightly. The door opened from the inside, and the guest, one of the Haradrim, sent the attendant away, for he had not ordered food. Thorn could see in the dim light, the room was a sparse sitting room, and on one side of a long low table sat the plain woman he had followed to the inn.

When the hall was safely dark again, Thorn crept up to the doorframe and listened. The guests inside seemed to be discussing some point of business dispassionately in low voices, of which he could hear little of the man’s brief replies and queries. But he did hear the sound of the coins, as the purse containing them was placed on the table. After a long pause the man said, “Who is it that you speak of?”

And clearly as if he had himself been standing in the room, Thorn heard the woman respond, “Ayar. Ayar, leader of the a desert clan.”

Thorn sunk down as if his heart had melted within him. What trap were they constructing? He must learn of it, and go as soon as possible to warn Ayar, for something was being planned against her. And Narika, what would become of her?

Suddenly the scent of danger ran strong in the air, and the light of a lamp reflected on the wall at the end of the hall. He saw the attendant turn the corner, lamp still in hand and in the other a lean and hungry cat. Thorn ran immediately as the cat was quietly placed down on the floor and the lamplight shone in his direction. He must get out. At all costs he had to get out!
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