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Old 02-05-2004, 07:13 PM   #97
Child of the 7th Age
Spirit of the Lonely Star
 
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Sting

Ráma

As the stranger reached for the back of her neck and the hateful fingers twisted about her wrist, Ráma felt her body stiffen and freeze. A piercing coldness assaulted her mind. No Man had ever touched her in this fashion. She'd made sure of that, staying far away from most Mannish types, other than the one gentle woman who had earned her trust and respect. Even living and working in Umbar, she'd been careful to keep Men at arm's length, never being alone with them or letting herself fall prey to their tricks and whims.

The thing was that the Races, looking at the maenwaith in their outward form, assumed that they were of the Race of Men. A smaller, "lesser" branch of Men, but Men nonetheless. While this may have been true in a literal sense, it was not the reality her people understood. Oh, no. Not at all. A member of the maenwaith living amongst Men was assuming a form, every bit as much a disguise as if she had changed to a horse, or a rat....or an eagle.

The maenwaith had traditionally stayed safely on the fringes of the societies of other Races, taking what they needed and rejecting the rest. Particularly the Race of Men. Especially the Race of Men. Her mother Ayar had secretly spoken of times long ago when the maenwaith had been friends with Dwarves and Elves, beings whom Ráma had only heard about in stories. Never had she mentioned that Men were to be counted among the ranks of those whom the maenwaith trusted and respected. For Men had ever coveted and taken what they could from the other peoples of Middle-earth: wisdom from the Elves and skill from the Dwarves. And from the maenwaith? Men would take their very being, seeking a Power that resided nowhere but in the very fea of her people.

Ráma could not have put any of this into words. But these feelings lay deep within and determined her response to the stranger's rough handling. There was an element of fear and apprehension that went beyond the merely physical.

Suddenly, something inside of her snapped. A carefully constructed wall gave way and came tumbling down in pieces. One minute she lay inert in the grip of a stranger and the next she was kicking and clawing and howling. The form of a young woman disappeared, to be replaced by that of a large white cat with silky hair and golden eyes. She was a skilful hunter of small things, a proud and independent killer who would brook no interference on the part of Man. Her claws raked gleefully against the stranger's chest, ripping his shirt and leaving behind a thin trail of blood that beaded into drops along the edge of the wound.

As much from surprise as any physical assault, Airefalas dropped the howling beast and stepped back in confusion, his face registering a mixture of disbelief and astonishment. Ráma padded over to the open window, twitching her tail in satisfaction at her newfound freedom. She turned back once to broadcast her triumph by hissing at the Man and arching her back and then leapt gracefully onto the window ledge, considering whether she should jump out the casement and leave these rude creatures behind. Pondering her decision, she looked down and remembered the room was on the second floor of the palace. It was a long way to drop.

Ráma felt her temper cool as she gazed out the window to the ground below; once again, she recalled the reason why she had come. She had a debt to repay to the Captain of the Star. With a wary eye fixed on Airefalas, she imperiously trumpeted an order, using human words that could be easily understood, "Man. Go get your friend! I have something to tell you......"

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:43 AM February 06, 2004: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]
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