Here There Be Dragons - RPG

[Child of the 7th Age]

Aiwendil stared off into the distance. By all the sands of Tol Eressea, was he to have no rest from all these questions?

Rôg and Mithadan meant no harm. They were merely trying to come up with a way to help the clan in their struggle against the evil Wyrma. But they had unwittingly stumbled onto the one piece of Aiwendil’s past that the istar had no desire to share.

He had so enjoyed his short stay here: to be living among free folk who took pleasure in the shifting of shapes. Yet he devoutly wished they had been Wolves or Leopards rather than Eagles. This subject would likely not have risen if he had been dwelling among shapeshifters who took on a different form.

A sharp voice cut through his reflections, “Speak up, old man. My mother has spoken well of you and says I am to consider your words. If you know anything of the Great Eagles, share it with us that we may all learn." Ráma stared across at Aiwendil, clearly sensing that the man knew more than he was willing to disclose.

“The stories are true," the istar mused. “In days past, the Eagles sometimes aided those in need. And once in Beleriand they helped to defeat the mighty wyrms whom Morgoth had summoned.”

He wiped his brow and continued. “The last time I came to them, they still dwelled in the northern reaches of the Misty Mountains. But where they are now, or who may summon them is another question.”

“But surely….” Mithadan interrupted.

“There is no ‘surely’ about it!” the old man retorted crossly. “These are no tame creatures. They answer only to the Lord of the Winds.”

“Stop a moment, both of you,” pleaded Ráma. “Aiwendil, you have actually visited these Eagles in the place where they live?”

“Yes, but that was years ago. The Misty Mountains are vast. I could not lead you to the Eagles even if they had stayed on the same mountain peak. And it is likely they moved on at the end of the Third Age.”

Ráma pressed again, “Still, you know these great birds. And perhaps you possess some strange power or means of command for them to have listened in the past. They would likely hear you out if you requested their aid.”

“I can not help you. Not now.” There was an edge of sadness in his voice. “Once perhaps, but that was long ago. These Eagles do not suffer fools. My last parting from them was far from amicable. When they hear my name, they are likely to fly off in the other direction.” More than that he was reluctant to say.

Ráma stared pointedly at Aiwendil. “Perhaps you are right, perhaps not. But you are still the best hope we have. And I will not be dissuaded. My mother has commanded me to undertake an errand that touches upon these Eagles. I am to travel south with the party that will go to rouse the other tribes to war. There is someone in the southern mountains who may be able to help us find these birds. Since you already know something of the Eagles and their ways, you will come with me.”

Remembering his promise to Ayar, Aiwendil inclined his head and responded somewhat stiffly, “As you wish, young lady. As long as it is a matter here in Harad, I will be guided by your wishes.”

Miri looked up to Ráma with excitement written on her face. “May I go too? Please. I wish to meet this person who can lead us to the Eagles.”

“I do not think so, Miri. You are brave but very young. We will speak more about it later.”

“I promise to do what you say. But I think I can help. For now I will serve the melons that my mother sent for our guest.”

“Yes, please do. I am sure we will enjoy them. But there is one final question I must raise as we eat.” Here Ráma turned towards Mithadan and Airefalas. “I am in your debt. That snake might have injured or even killed me. I wish to repay you by helping you find your friend. Yet I have little time to go off by myself. I have been thinking long on this and the answer seems quite simple. You must tell me what shapes your friend took on, especially the largest or most deadly one. This Bird of yours is likely to have searched out her clan. It would be an easy thing to send out a messenger to that clan and have her tracked down in that fashion.”

Ráma smiled gently at the Gondorians awaiting their response.

[piosenniel]

Rôg

‘I promise to do what you say,' said Miri with great reluctance. 'But I think I can help.' A considering look slid quickly over her face, replaced by one of apparent acquiescence. 'For now I will serve the melons that my mother sent for our guest.’

Offering his help, Rôg gathered two of the small melons into his hands and motioned for Miri to bring the other one. Withdrawing to the other side of the tent, they set about cutting the sweet melons into thin crescents and arranging them on two small silvered platters. Miri did not want to miss a word of the conversation. Picking up one of the platters carefully, she rose to to cross the room and begin passing the slices to Aiwendil’s guests.

A tug on her breeches turned her round to see Rôg shaking his head at her. ‘Sit down,’ he whispered, ‘until the man, Mithadan, has had a chance to answer your friend, Rama.’ He tilted his chin toward the captain who had furrowed his brow as if considering well how he might describe his maenwaith friend. Miri sat down with a small sigh, mollified only by the fact that if she kept very quiet she would be able to hear everything that the dinner guests said.

Rôg smiled fondly at her, seeing the look of unabashed curiosity on her face. She would bear watching, though, he thought, when the woman, Rama, decided to go on her search for those eagles Aiwendil had spoken of. I should let the old man know that Miri may try to follow. She’s a clever child, and may stow away in one of her new found forms. He inched a little closer to where Miri sat on the floor mat. To be honest, he was curious himself, what sort of maenwaith had made friends with a man of the north.

There was an air of expectant silence as the small group of diners spooned up the last few bites of their meal, waiting for the man from Gondor to speak . . .

[Mithadan]

From the moment that he had heard of the deep division between the Shapechanger tribes and the threat posed by Wyrma and her clan, he had been dreading the question that Rama had just posed. He and Airefalas had forged a friendship, albeit uneasy and suspicous, with Rama and some of her people. The Gondorians were now wholly subject to the power of the Eagle clan; both dependant upon their hospitality as well their good will. They were not now captives, though he suspected that this was not a matter which had been firmly decided. An honest answer to Rama's query could jeopardize both the Eagles' good will as well as the safety of himself and his first mate. Yet the thought of lying to those who had extended their friendship was distasteful.

He realized that all in the tent had fallen silent, waiting for his response. Drawing a deep breath, Mithadan spoke. "I have known Bird for nine years and my wife knew her for several years before that," he began. "She is a person that I would risk my life for, worthy of high praise. She is dark of skin and slight in build. Her hair is raven black but she has a streak of silver down the middle. She is a person of rare humor, yet she is fierce in the defense of her friends. Bird can take a number of shapes..."

"Then she is a maenwaith of great skill and power," interjected Rôg. "Many of us can take but one or two forms. Relatively few are those who can take three and I have known none who can take more than four."

Mithadan started a bit at this, for Bird had never seemed to be a person of great power. To him she was just...Bird, dear and funny with a wonderous gift. Nonetheless, he continued. "She can take the shape of an insect akin to the cricket which she calls a 'neeker-breeker'." Miri laughed and clapped her hands at this. "Her second form is a jackadaw; a black bird with sliver coloration. Bird can also take the form of a dolphin." This drew blank stares from Rôg and Miri; they had never heard of such an animal. Mithadan smiled.

"A dolphin is a sea creature," he explained. "A strong and agile swimmer longer than a man is tall. But it does not breathe underwater. It must surface from time to time for air."

Rôg seemed both surprised and impressed byt his. "An insect, a bird and a fish!" he murmured. "That is rare indeed!"

Mithadan was silent for a moment, tempted to wait and see if the others might assume that those were Bird's only forms. But Rama looked at him intently as if she could discern his thoughts. "She has another form?" Rama asked.

Mithadan nodded. "An Ent," he added. Again, the Shapechangers did not recognize the word. But even Aiwendil seemed surprised at this revelation. "Bird can take the form of an Ent?" he exclaimed. Seeing the confusion of the others, he explained. "An Ent is a Shephard of the Trees. One of the speaking people, but more like a tree than an Elf or a Man. Very tall, sometimes ten feet or more, with a thick hide. It is said that long ago the first Dark Lord made trolls in counterfeit of the Ents."

"But a maenwaith cannot take the form of one of the speaking peoples," cried Rama. "We cannot take the form of a Man, and Elf, a Dwarf or even an Orc. You must be mistaken."

"I have seen her take this form," Mithadan continued, almost reluctantly. "I cannot say how she does it but she can."

Aiwendil considered this for a moment, then spoke. "Long ago when the Ents first arose in the North, they were mute. They could not speak. But then they met the Elves and through long effort the Elder Race taught the Ents the trick of language. Perhaps that is why Bird can assume that form."

"Four shapes!" cried Rôg. "Two that fly, one that swims and another that walks and is tall and strong as well! I would like to meet this Bird. Four shapes!"

Mithadan shifted uncomfortably on his pillow. Rama's sharp eyes did not miss this movement. "Is there another?" she asked. "Can Bird take a fifth shape?"

Mithadan was silent for a moment. Then he sighed. "You must understand that I think very highly of Bird. She is a good friend that I love dearly. She is good-hearted and faithful. But I fear that you may not like what I am about to say. Please know that Bird is no more evil than I am."

Rama's eyes narrowed in confusion. "She can take a fifth shape?" she asked.

"Long ago, she was a member of my crew," he continued. "We found ourselves in a very difficult situation. We were attempting to save some people who were being attacked. We needed to find a way to perhaps carry them away from danger in numbers. I cannot speak more of this, but we too came under attack and Bird took a new form, one that I had once mentioned to her. I don't know that... She told me that the forms found her; that she could not choose her forms. But in this case she took exactly the form that I had mentioned. I had no idea if it was even possible, but she did it. And using that form we eventually saved many people from certain death..."

He looked up and his eyes met those of Rama. He held her gaze as if pleading for understanding. "Her fifth shape is a silver and black winged dragon..."

[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 . . .

[Nerindel]

Sorona

Surprised by Surinen’s question and the news that the clans were no longer allied she looked at her two hosts, how long have I been away for such things to occur and what brought about such a parting of friendship? She thought to herself as she studied their stony expressions. She pressed herself to recall how long had past since she was forced from her homelands, she recalled that last day with a mixture of pain and sorrow.

“Twenty years!” she gasped startling herself as she counted the seasons past, “Yes, it has been Twenty years since last I walked these lands with our wolf brothers and sisters,” she smiled weakly attempting to regain her composure.

“Please forgive my ignorance, but you say that the Eagles are no longer allied to the Wolf Maenwaith, this I do not understand for when last I walked these lands the ties between them were strong. The Eagles ,the herders and gatherers who provided food and sustenance, The wolves, the hunters who provided the means for warmth and tools and together they worked to locate and dig new wells, they worked together for the prosperity of both clans and when the tellers came there was much joy and cause for celebration. But how comes it that such friendship has been forsaken.” She asked with genuine concern.

"Twenty years? Then surely, you must have been witness to the great Haradrim raid that sundered this friendship, ravaging the wolf clan, but sparing our own. It has served as the fire of a forge, breaking even the strongest bonds between us. Though the wolf clan has recovered, the alliance has not. We are at odds, even to this day. How is it that you do not know of this?" Surinen asked.

Sorona stared deep into the young mans eyes searching past the fresh doubt and suspicion to see the truth in his eyes, then with a heavy heart and weary sigh she nodded assenting to answer his question. “Yes, I had the unhappy misfortune to witness the raids of the Haradrim,” she began sadly. “But I assure you there was nothing at all great about it!” she added pointedly taking in the gaze of both eagles.

“But of the sundering of friendship I knew not and can not fathom, I was not fortunate to return that day or any after until now!” seeing the blank stares of her audience she continued.

“After dispatching a messenger to the eagle camp warning my father and the clan of the approaching danger, I picked up my child and ran with the others women and children, old and young alike the men of the clan had set out two days previous on a hunting expedition and where not expected back till dark. But I became separated from my people and found myself being chased through the forest by several riders, I knew I could not out run them and that as had become custom in such times I should have taken my sons life to free him from the evil that pursued, but I could not, love stayed my hand. Therefore, I hide him high in a tree, bade him to make no sound and then I drew our pursuers away from him. The last thing I remembered was a sharp pain to my side and then I never saw my son or the lands of my birth again!”

A silence ensued as both Surinen and Latah stared in horror and disbelief; finally, Surinen broke the uneasy silence. “It is said that the men of the wolf clan returned to find their women and children dead or missing and that only a hand full of elders and some children were found cowering in the forest. The wolf clan’s youngest son went mad with grief blaming the eagles accusing us of abandoning their women and children or so my father tells it,” Surinen told her.

Sorona dropped her head in thoughtful contemplating, why would they have blamed the eagles. She sent her cousin Freya back to the eagles to warn them, oh! She suddenly thought remembering, her own words.

“Freya, quickly return to the eagles and warn my father of the approaching danger,”
“Yes cousin your father will send help!”
“No Freya, they will not come in time, I will take the clan into the forest until the danger has past! Tell my father to move the clan and we will join them later!”

What if Halfr and his clan did not know of this message, But why would they not? Why would it have been kept from them? “Oh Halfr, what have you done!” she whispered sadly.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Surinen

Latah did not speak, but struggled within herself. Surely this Sorona had been through and seen a great deal more than she herself had, but if she loved her son as she said she did, how could she simply leave him to face his fate and then disappear only to return to the eagle clan without first finding if his name was still recited among the wolves. Her son must be close to Surinen’s age by now, if he were still alive and if the tale she told was true. Perhaps she was now a grandmother, and her wisdom needed by him. But Latah worried that even if Sorona truly was the eagle she presented herself to be, what was to say that she had not now been sent back to her native people for some low purpose. She found she did not trust her, and wished that Surinen would not speak so freely.

But Surinen was now thoughtful and silent, digesting what he had heard as he tilted his mug, washing his hand under the small stream of water. The name of Halfr had given him pause, for Dinsûl was not the only one to describe him in despairing terms, but Narayad also had spoken of him when lamenting the course his people had taken. For Narayad had been of the Wolf clan, though now his true name was not called out as a member of its ranks, and by choice he no longer assumed that shape which came naturally to him. He was as dead to them as Surinen’s own sister Mîrya was dead to the eagle clan, having turned his back, no matter how reluctantly on his kin.

“Yes, what has Halfr done!” Surinen sighed, thinking of his friend’s grievances. “Not only this”, he said looking into Sorona’s eyes to see her response to his words, “but he has taken his clan and made them a jewel in the midst of a dragons’ hoard. For his people long ago joined the maenwaith who huddle under the cold wings of Wyrms like hatchlings in need of protection.” And seeing that sadness overtook the bird he moderated his stance, adding that he could not understand why the clan had allowed themselves to be led this way, for they by all accounts were a clever and skilled people, undaunted by hardship.

At this Latah stood up suddenly, and gathering their plates excused herself, taking them outside to clean. Surinen watched as she closed the tent flap behind her, wishing he could follow so that she might unburden her mind to him. For he knew that this conversation touched on matters that she found troubling, especially in light of Narayad’s current standing in the eagle community, and through him, her own.

“Is she all right?” the bird whispered, following his glance.

“I hope that she will always be so,” Surinen confessed, still looking to the door. “It has been a trying time for all of us here. For you too, if it has been so long since you have been in these parts. You must have traveled a great distance to find again your desert home. But do not worry, we will be here tomorrow also, and the Haradrim will not carry you away again from this place.”

[Ealasaide]

As he made his way through the dark camp back in the direction of his tent, Fador's mind churned. So much had happened over the course of the last several days. There still remained so much to be done, to be seen to, with the passing of Ayar so near at hand. Wyrma’s assassin had done his job well, he thought grimly, coming and going unseen and unheard like a deadly breath of wind. At first Fador, like the others, had believed that the leader of the Eagles had merely taken ill. He had tried to take advantage of her illness with the fire, but now realized that the sabotage of the incense pot had been a mistake. Wyrma’s man had done his job with lethal effectiveness. All he had managed to do, himself, was focus suspicion upon the person of his own daughter, Latah, who was completely innocent. Her husband, Narayad, another innocent, had also fallen under the blanket of suspicion and was being sent away for it. His action had been a grave miscalculation.

“Foolishness,” he muttered. He should have left well enough alone. Not one to dwell upon failures, however, Fador turned his mind ahead to the group awaiting him in his tent. He had offered his hospitality to the two Gondorians, who had arrived in such an untimely fashion, not so much out of generosity as out of the desire to watch them, that he might best ascertain what their intentions were and how he might bend them to his own purposes... if he could bend them. That possibility still remained to be explored. While he had caught a distant glimpse of them earlier in the day and heard many wild rumors, he had yet to meet either of them face to face.

As he neared his tent, Fador saw Latah step through the open flap, carrying an armload of dirty dishes. Catching sight of him, Latah set the dishes down and smiled.

“You return at last!” she exclaimed. “We have kept dinner warm for you.”

Fador smiled back at her, nodding in the direction of their tent. “I hope you have been a good hostess to our guests. I should hate to give our Gondorian friends a bad impression of us.”

“Oh...” Latah glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Unfortunately, they are not here. We only learned at the last moment that they had made their dinner plans elsewhere. I have been a good hostess only to Surinen and one of our long lost kin, Sorona.”

Fador shot a sharp glance through the open flap of the tent. Sorona? He had heard talk among the other elders of the arrival of another supposed stranger, a female, trapped in the form of an eagle. Could it be the same Sorona who had once been one of them and married into the clan of the Wolves? If so, the timing of her return was intriguing. He had thought her dead, killed years ago in the Haradrim raids that had driven the Eagles deep into the south and created the rift between the two clans. Why had she returned? Why now? Catching sight of the stately form of the eagle, he frowned slightly. It was impossible to tell her identity for certain in her current form. The Sorona he had known had not even been capable of taking that form when he last saw her.

He nodded to Latah. “So I see. And where have the Gondorians gone?”

Latah colored slightly and shrugged. “I am afraid I don’t know, but I expect they shall return shortly.”

“Very well, then,” he said patiently, agreeing that he would have to wait to meet the northerners until their return later in the evening. Turning, Fador entered his tent, giving Surinen a courteous nod in passing, but focusing the majority of his attention upon the eagle.

“Greetings, Mistress Eagle,” he said pleasantly. “I am Fador. Welcome to my home. I trust my daughter has taken proper care of you?”

“She has been very kind,” answered the eagle. “I thank you both for your hospitality. I am Sorona.”

“Sorona,” echoed Fador, giving the eagle a long gaze. “I used to know someone by that name a very long time ago,” he said. “She married into another clan and I lost track of her, but that was many years ago.” He smiled. “Allow me to welcome you to our encampment. Do you plan to remain with us long?”