Here There Be Dragons - Discussion/Planning

[Mithadan]

Piosenniel, Child of the Seventh Age and Mithadan welcome you to the Planning Thread for Here There Be Dragons! This RPG is the third chapter of a tale which began with The Voyage of the Lonely Star and was continued in The Shadow of the Star. The inspiration for this RPG is owed to Birdland, without whose humor and cleverness this game would not be possible. This is an "invitation only" RPG.

Brief Plot Synopsis:

This summary reviews not only the outline for this game, but also provides information regarding the two prior RPGs in this series.

Voyage of the Lonely Star

This post provides a general outline of the Lonely Star and Shadow of the Star RPGs, but omits many of the plot twists and additional characters. It will hopefully supply enough detail that posters can get a sense of how the present sequel grew out of the earlier adventure.

Our story began in Minas Anor, early in the Fourth Age, when Cami Goodchild sought to hire a ship to go search for lost "sea-hobbits". Cami had discovered a reference to these mysterious hobbit cousins in a scribbled marginal note of a book given to her by Bilbo.

Rebuffed by many shipowners, Cami finally found a sympathetic ear from Mithadan, the owner of a sailing vessel, the Lonely Star. The shapechanger Bird and the half Elven Piosenniel, two friends who had shared many
earlier adventures, agreed to help lead and finance the group. Among the other members of the crew was Rose Goodchild, a young cousin who had come to live with Cami.

The Star's initial voyage led them to a ruined colony of sea-hobbits, also called hobbrim, whose only survivor was a lad named Kali. Kali informed the Star that he was the guardian of a mysterious time travel device bequeathed to the colony by Ulmo, the Vala who rules the Seas. The lad asked the Star to help him fulfill Ulmo's decree that the hidden hobbrim and hobbits, lost in past ages, should be found and rescued.

The Star's activation of the time travel device brought the arrival of Idil and Tuor, two legendary Elves from Valinor who were to aid them in this quest. After much searching and deliberation, the crew came to realize that, like the Edain, the hobbits had journeyed west in the First Age to settle in
Beleriand. Like other Mannish tribes, the Hobbits were discovered by Finrod, who recognized that the diminutive and peaceful race would stand little chance of survival in Beleriand. Perhaps prompted by some
premonition that the Hobbits would play some
significant role in the Tale of Arda, Finrod requested they be harbored in the safety of Gondolin and the race disappeared from history into the Hidden City. Upon the fall of Gondolin, Morgoth, the Dark Enemy,
ordered them to be imprisoned in Taur-nu-Fuin, as it was clear to him from the music of creation that this little people had an important part to play in the continuing battle against the darkness.

The Star sailed to Beleriand, but was, of course, unable to prevent the fall of Gondolin, and its crew watched in despair as Piosenniel was killed and the hobbits dragged off to an Orc prison camp. Rose and
Cami volunteered to remain behind with their people. They were aided in their endeavors by Bird and a mysterious Maia named "Ancalimon".

It was here that Cami met and fell in love with Maura Took. The couple asked to remain together, but were advised by Ancalimon that this must not be, since the fabric of time could not be ripped further apart. Maura and Cami were told that, only after life had
ended, in the circles that lie beyond the world, could they safely find reunion. Maura and Cami sadly accepted this decree as the will of the Valar, with Maura remaining behind on Tol Fuin, the island remnant
of the highlands of Dorthonion after the drowning of Beleriand, drawing on the support of his young friend Lindo, and his other family members.

Rose and a grieving Cami were returned safely to the ship. The crew, however, was in a state of disarray, mourning for Piosenniel. It was only with Pio's
miraculous return from the West some time later that they again took heart.

The hobbits had lived peacefully on Tol Fuin for thosands of years, but had finally been captured by Ar-pharazon, who had discovered their secret doom. He had imprisoned them in the Tombs at the base of Eru's mount. Mithadan and Piosenniel began to plan a daring campaign to free the hobbits from the Tombs and use the time travel device to rescue them from the isle just before it sank.

In the course of this campaign, the Elf and Man came to love each other and pledged their troth as man and wife. The Star succeeded in locating the hidden community of hobbrim and also organized the hobbits in
the Tombs to revolt. The assault on the Tombs
succeeded, and the hobbits were taken back to the hidden isle of Meneltarma after the fall of Numenor. Here, they are asked to fulfill the doom that Ulmo had laid out for their people. Each hobbit must decide whether to remain on land, or to be transformed into a sea-hobbit under the scepter of Ulmo. The hobbrim would remain hidden on Meneltarma until the end of
time when it is said they will play an important role in the final battle for Arda. The land hobbits would be taken back to the Anduin in the year 1000 of the Third Age. From there they would later make their way
to the Shire and eventually play their part in the destruction of the Ring.

At the end of the Star RPG, Piosenniel and Mithadan return to the Fourth Age, awaiting the birth of their twins. Bird begins searching for clues that will reveal more of her shapechanger past. Cami, still in love with Maura, resigns herself to duty as the leader of the hobbit community in Greenwood in the mid-Third Age, and also adopts a burrowful of orphaned boys, including the highly tempermental Gamba.


The Shadow of the Star; part two of this tale:

Westra lag wegas rehtas, nu isti sa wraithas...

A straight road lay westward, now it is bent... This tale is written in the spirit of The Lost Road and the Notion Club papers, the beginning portions of two books that Tolkien never completed, but whose fragments appear in HoMe, volumes V and IX. Both of
these explored the idea of time travel, not in terms of an actual machine such as other writers have postulated, but rather by dream journeys, which show how the power of myth can escape explosively into the present.

The tale itself is set in the eleventh year of the Fourth Age, shortly after the completion of the Voyage of the Lonely Star. It takes Tolkien's view of dream journeys one step further, postulating that there may
be certain circumstances in which visions and reality actually coexist in our world, with no certainty at all as to which state is actually in the ascendent. In his time travel fragments, Tolkien suggested that,
with the destruction of Numenor and the obliteration of the Lost Road, the only way for Man to reach the Blessed Realm was through the vehicle of dreams. This story builds upon that notion. It assumes that the
dreams of characters like Cami and Bilbo and Maura, who exist only in another time and place, actually had the power to influence a particular locale in Middle-earth, to bring it onto another plane of existence, much as Tolkien viewed the Blessed Lands.

In this story, for a very brief instant, the Green Dragon Inn becomes a place where the boundaries between dream and reality disappear, and it is possible for individuals not actually present in the
Fourth Age to travel to the Inn and speak and meet with each other. In this particular locale, the normal notions of time and place have been suspended, or perhaps transcended.

Frodo and Bilbo, residing in Tol Eressea after the War of the Ring, long for their home in The Shire. In addition, Bilbo becomes aware of the fate of Cami and
her separation from her beloved Maura. Believing the deeds of Cami and Maura to be nearly as significant as those of Bilbo and Frodo in the Third Age, they beg Gandalf for an opportunity for them to be reunited
with both their friends in The Shire as well as Cami, Maura and their kin. After debate, the Valar agree that Bilbo’s wishes should be granted, for a time, and Lorien, master of dreams, is charged with making these
events take place and accompanying Bilbo and Frodo back to Middle Earth.

The reunions of Bilbo and Frodo and their friends take place, though they find The Shire to be changed with the passage of time. Similarly, Maura and Cami and
their kin are reunited. Though these reunions are happy at first, they are also colored with sadness as each recognizes that these events are temporary and that all must be returned to their proper places and times. But their stay in The Shire is to last at least until Cami and Maura are wedded and Piosenniel, who had journeyed north from Gondor and become the innkeeper of The Green Dragon, gives birth to her
children.

They are joined by Mithadan and Bird, but events conspire against them and the peace of The Shire is broken by a last vestige of the evil from the end of the Third Age. A wave of kidnappings takes place, guided by Bill Ferny who seeks revenge upon the
Hobbits. Ultimately, Piosenniel’s newborn children are taken by Ferny’s minions and the victims of the kidnappings must be rescued by Mithadan, Piosenniel, Bird and the Hobbits. The rescue is successful and
Cami and Maura are ultimately wed, even though they fear they will soon be separated. As the tale closes, Lorien returns all to their proper places and times,
but in a prologue, we discover that Cami and Maura are granted leave to dwell together in the vale of the Anduin with Cami’s kin in the middle of the Third Age.


Here There Be Dragons; part three of this tale:

Bird, the shapechanger, was brought as a child to be fostered by the Beornings, her distant kin. Not satisfied with the pastoral life of the Beornings, she wanders away in search of her roots and her family. In time, she encounters Piosenniel, and later Mithadan, and they become great friends, though her search for her kin bears no fruit.

After the return of the Lonely Star to Gondor, Bird takes her leave from Piosenniel and Mithadan to resume her quest. She finds some meager clues in the south of Middle Earth, and returns north to be with her friends for the birth of their children (and the return of Cami and Maura to The Shire). After accompanying Piosenniel and Mithadan to Gondor, she resumes her search, and discovers that some new threat to peace is arising in Harad. She sends Piosenniel a message warning of this vague new threat. Then she disappears and as of the time of this RPG, the 18th year of the Fourth Age, has not been heard from in three years.

At the outset of the game, Mithadan has taken the Lonely Star to Umbar on a trading mission at the request of Elessar. He hopes to find news of Bird while in the South. However, this mission goes terribly wrong, and soon the crew of the Lonely Star is plunged into the strange world of the Southlands and the Shapechangers.
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Maps:

Here is Piosenniel's map showing areas where the RPG will occur (Note: To the left of the
word Haradwaith on the map on the coastline is Umbar):

Map


OF THE SHAPECHANGERS

The Beorning were a most ancient, noble race. Their people dwelled in the Northern Vales of Middle Earth for countless centuries, where they built their fantastic lodges of wood and stone, and farmed the fertile river valley of the Anduin. The center of their territory was The Carrock, a massive rock island that split the Anduin in twain, north of the Old Ford. The Carrock was both Marker and Meeting place. It is said that the first Beorning to come to Middle Earth stood on the peak of Carrock, surveying the land, and first assumed the aspect of The Bear.

For the Beorn were Skin-Changers. The only form they would take on, besides that of large, doughty Men, was that of The Bear, whom they regarded as the greatest and wisest of all the creatures of Eru. Through the years, the Beorning achieved a perfect balance of the two forms, blending their Human and Animal aspects in such a way that a Beorn in Man-Shape retained all the nobler, (and dangerous) traits of Ursa, and when a Bear?…well…vice-versa.

They were a very successful , prosperous race. They were never routed from their ancient kingdom, never defeated in battle, and their trade with Men, Elves and Dwarves enriched their coffers, to the benefit of all Beorn-Kind.

Of course, most Shapechangers bore no resemblance whatsoever to the Beorning.

Shapechangers (SCs) were a small race of men, never achieving the lofty heights of the Numenorean races. Though never as small as Hobbits, they seldom, if ever, grew taller than 2 meters. They were generally light boned and nimble, though a male skin-changer might possess surprising strength and could defeat a larger opponent, particularly in wrestling. Their skin was olive, their hair mostly black and thick. The eyes were generally brown, though blue or
green eyed Skin-Changers were not that uncommon.

But that was, of course, when they are in Human form. For Skin-Changers could assume almost any animal shape, though few could learn to shift to more than 3 forms. They could not, however, assume the form of another Man, Halfling, Dwarf, or Elf. But they could, for some reason, turn into Ents. (It is thought that the “woody“ nature of these Free People somehow allows for this type of metamorphosis.)

Now most people would think it a wonderful thing, to be able to take on any aspect that you like. To escape your troubles by flying away as a bird, or taking to sea as a fish. But this very talent can lead to an
inability to face responsibility. If you can escape from your life by adopting another, you may never learn to face your troubles and overcome them. The Beorning, those who believed that other SCs existed at all, for this very reason, regarded their smaller cousins as a flighty, irresponsible, sometimes silly people, who could not take life seriously.

The majority of Skin-Changers regarded Beornings as fanatics.

Men of Power coveted Skin-Changers; for they are, of course, the perfect spies and thieves. For this reason the race was plagued through the ages by Forces of Evil who sought to control Skin-Changers and use
them to further their aims. There were even horrific stories of necromancers who would “study” captive Skin-Changers, in order that they might absorb the talent to change form, and use it themselves. Though
not a particularly political race, never taking sides in the ongoing conflicts between Men, Elves, and Dwarves, Skin-Changers almost always turned from the
Dark Side. They fled in terror from those who
sought to control them. And since they were
Skin-Changers, fleeing was usually quite easy.

The one way Men of Evil found to gain sway over the race is through their children. If the youngest child of a Skin-Changer could be captured, before its talent manifested (between the ages of 10 to 12), then the cooperation of the parents could be
ensured. Sadly, this has lead to the practice of infanticide / suicide among the Skin-Changers, if they find that themselves in a situation where escape without the young children is impossible.

Those SCs who were not of the Beorning clans led a nomadic life in the South. Many roamed in bands and travelling caravans criss-crossing the Southlands as they went from village to village and settlement to settlement. They avoided contact with "normal" Men, but when they did come into contact they hid their abilities. As a result of this practice, they became legendary and the stuff of tales told to frighten children. It wasn’t long before the only Skin-Changers known to exist in Middle Earth were the Mighty Beornings. And this was exactly how the Skin-Changers liked it.

THE HISTORY OF THE SHAPECHANGERS

Shapechangers are a version of men existing from the beginning. Like other races of Men, they migrated westward early in the First Age where some eventually reached Beleriand. The unusual talents of the SCs did not evade the attention of Morgoth, however. Morgoth corrupted some into werewolves/vampires during the First Age. Although these corrupted SCs were relatively few in number, Men and Elves grew to fear them. The remaining "free" Shapechangers fled south and East to escape Morgoth. Those who fled towards the east became the forefathers of the Beornings. Those who fled to the South shunned contact with Men and Elves and in turn were feared and sometimes even hunted. The Southern SCs wanted little else but to be left alone to pursue their own way of life.

When Sauron returned to power in the Third Age, he, like Morgoth before him, threatened the SCs and managed to corrupt some of them, possibly supplied to him by the Haradrim. Some were forced to join the Shadow through the usual methods (seizing their children who can't shift their shapes and are vulnerable) and others joined him voluntarily in response to promises of wealth and power. However, there were very few of the latter, and most of the SCs, in response, retreated farther into the South. Some however sought refuge in the cities and attempted to blend into the Southron cultures. When Sauron was defeated, Harad and Umbar were thrown into chaos. The majority of the SCs took advantage of this and attempted to be forgotten again. But some, having had a taste of the cities and of power were of a different mind.


GENERAL BACKGROUND ON THE SOUTHERN SKINCHANGERS

The Southern Skinchangers, known hereafter as SCs, are all one race, living in large extended families or clans. The families of a single clan may spread out over a vast area. Once a year, the smaller groupings
come together for a clan gathering to conference and settle disputes. A clan may have a male or female leader. Traditionally, the role of leader goes to the wisest member of the clan. Although traditional SCs
are inherently reclusive in nature, they do honor the laws of desert hospitality that require a clan to extend food and shelter to another traveler who is in trouble, even those from outside the clan or of a different race, unless open warfare exists.

There is an annual gathering of the clans. At this time, the heads of the extended families come together under the Wyrms, the group that has always provided the leaders for the loose federation of SC clans.
Traditionally, the Wyrm leader (a hereditary position) decides the general direction the SCs will follow, settles disputes that can't be taken care of by clan leaders, and takes command in times of open conflict with outside races.

Even in "normal" times, other clans will vie for the favor of the ruling Wyrms. As in other SC groupings, the Wyrm clan is normally not a unified group. Within
the clan, there are differences of opinion, with various family units jockeying for a more favorable position that will bring them closer to being the Wyrm ruler, should that position become available.

At the beginning of our story, the top positions within the Wyrm clan, including that of the ruling Wyrm, has been captured by ambitious SCs who wish to change the traditional way the race has lived in favor of dwelling in cities and accumulating wealth and power. The evil head of the Wyrm clan wishes to use his power in an oppressive manner to consolidate a base from which the SCs may move outward to establish an empire, possibly challenging the rule of Man and the authority of Elessar. The Great Wyrm has reached a perverted decision that if other SCs do not conform to the plan he has laid out, they should be wiped out. Traditional SCs find kinslaying an abhorrent idea.


SC GROUPINGS

There are three broad groupings of SCs in this story, each represented by a number of different clans.

The REBEL SCs, those who have rejected the ambitions of the Great Wyrm, have migrated away from the main SC settlements and now live far from traditional SC areas in the interior of Harad. This region is
comparatively uninhabited.

The MAIN BODY OF SCs (anyone not affiliated with the rebels) lives in the desert area just left of the word Haradwaith on the map. The clan leaders in this area give their allegiance to the Wyrm clan out of belief
or necessity. Some individual SCs do not approve of what their clan leaders have decided but are not willing to voice their opinions and incur the disapproval of the clan leader, those members of the clan who do support him, or the wrath of the evil Wyrm
who is the nominal head of the confederated clans.

The Wyrm Clan and their allies who have joined them also live in this area. They prefer to be close to Umbar since this gives them easy access to its resources and they can make contact with any surviving minions of the Shadow if such is needed. While many evil SCs are Wyrms, the group includes
representatives of many different clans. However, everyone within this group accepts the authority of the present Wyrm leader.

The Wyrms and their allies are the only SCs to live in fixed towns and villages. Not only do the capitalists live in cities of their own; they are now trying to force other SCs to settle in one fixed spot. For how can they build an empire on the backs of nomads? With thispurpose in mind, SCs are being herded into towns and forbidden to go on their ancient migration routes.

Traditional SCs consider this lack of freedom and mobility to be the kiss of death. This is the original reason why the rebel SCs migrated outside the traditional settlement to other areas -- not because
they had some intellectual objection to the Shadow but because they felt their traditional way of life threatened. Small numbers of refugees are still leaving the desert area and migrating south to the
forest stronghold where rebel SCs have set down their roots.

The Wyrms' efforts to force the SC into fixed
settlements have met with only partial success. Many SC's are still strung out in various clan and family groupings in a wild patchwork of hidden niches, valleys, and caves. Since SC's are nomadic, they tend
to move about with their herds because of the
necessity of access to food and water. This is especially true of the rebel SC's who are not restrained by the demands of the Wyrms. As a result of this dispersion, the rebel SC's would be able to rely on tactics like stealth and surprise and hiding themselves from any Wyrm-follower who ventures too close.

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[b]Character Outlines:[b]

Pio – Rôg – Character Bio

NAME: Rôg

AGE: around 41

RACE: Mannish

GENDER: Male

APPEARANCE: 5’6”; black hair; dark brown eyes; olive toned skin; softly muscled, lean frame; a little stooped when he does not remember to straighten his posture, from long hours spent hunched over scrolls and tomes in libraries, and over his own notebooks; a pleasant, though not memorable face; long, tapering fingers with well kept nails; an ink stain and thick callous on his right middle finger indicating where the quill is grasped. There is a small, flat, ovoid shaped gold stud in his upper left ear, nearly hidden where the top of ear folds over on itself like a sea shell.

Prefers loose clothing in dark, earthen tones, browns and blacks – breeches and tunics worn with boots if necessary in the north and western climes. Otherwise bare-footed. Dark brown hooded cape for protection against the elements. A number of large handkerchiefs are crammed in various pockets of the cape, most of them a yellow color.

Carries an ebony walking stick; small hand ax used for gathering fuel for fire; an over the shoulder leather pouch which, among other items, holds several leather bound notebooks and one small chapbook; a quill case; inkstone and blotter sand; at his belt he wears a small leather sheath with a small, sharp double edged knife – used mainly for sharpening quills or cutting up vegetables.

PERSONALITY: He has a pleasant temperament, and a dry sense of humor. Good listener, feels no desire to talk one’s ear off. A slow, methodical worker; does not like to feel ‘hurried’. He prefers to evaluate all sides of a problem before settling on an answer. In a dangerous situation, he would be more likely to take cover than fight. Though, as yet, nothing has pushed him to the point where his mettle might be tested.

Dependable, intelligent. Used to the wandering life. A whiz with a cooking pot and any edible vegetation and small game. Can start a fire under any conditions. He is a man of many useful talents.

HISTORY: Born in TA 2999. For five years his home was in the wide, broad valley bounded by the lower limb of the Orocarni, the Mountains of the East; the dense forest on their west and east; and the arid steppe that pushed its way south and east, descending to the shores of the seas. His family were members of a small nomadic tribe who wandered this sparsely populated area, trading with other tribes in the vicinity, often venturing as far West as the outskirt cities of Rhûn. His father made the small, serviceable axes of the sort that graced his own belt. His mother wove colorful baskets, useful for many things in the peoples of that region’s daily lives, and useful, too, her larger ones, for burial.

He and his older sister, two years his senior, enjoyed a fairly carefree life during this time. Though sometimes he and she were pressed into service for gathering the fibrous materials for baskets, or pumping the bellows when their father was at work on the ax heads, for the most part, they were free to roam. And best they loved the forests with their scrubby, green needled trees, roots gripped firm on the rocky ground. . . and the wildlife, the abundant and most intriguing wildlife. Encouraged by their parents, they both grew up with a great respect for the creatures that shared their lives . . . and a healthy respect for the creatures’ ability to protect themselves.

Then the Shadow from the west lengthened. At first a hushed story told in whispers around the cooking fires by the elders, then encounters with peoples they had previously traded with who now claimed some sort of allegiance to a great Lord in a far western place called Mordor. The elders and parents seemed secretive to a youngster of five, but his own reassured him and his sister that there was nothing to worry about. Nonetheless, in the following months they began a slow migration southward, hugging the coast of the Eastern Sea and then the Inner Sea. Past the places of half remembered stories from before the time of men.

When he was about ten years old, the elders made the decision that they had come to a place they felt safe enough to settle in. This new area lay in a semi-arid region between the Great Dark Forests of the South and the coast of the Inner Sea. And it was here that he spent the next fifteen years of his life. The letters and numbers he had learned at his mother’s knee now proved useful to his family and tribe – increased contact with other wandering tribes meant increased trade, and he had the talent to keep the tallies.

At twenty-five, he traded for his first scroll, paying the traveling merchant extra for a quick lesson on how to read the peculiar script. It was only a short, illustrated treatise on locating wells and digging them; an unexciting piece of literature, save for the fact it showed him how such a thing was done in some other part of the world. And when he learned, from the same fellow that there were buildings dedicated to the storage of manuscripts and scrolls, which were open for those so inclined to read and study in, he resolved to see them. His wishes came to fruition in the next few years, and with the blessings of his parents and his other tribe members he set off, wandering north and west, seeking to increase his knowledge.

~*~

He had long been interested in the study of small birds – their habitats, social structure, migratory patterns, feeding preferences, capacity to adapt and learn new skills. He felt a certain kinship to them, many of them wanderers like himself.

It was at the Library in Rivendell where he first met Radagast, and fell to comparing notes with him concerning the sighting of a certain species of hummingbird seen recently in the last few years in the area of Rhudaur near the Hithaeglir, and then again between the eastern side of the mountains and Rhosgobel.

Hearing that Radagast was bound for the southern lands, Rôg offered to accompany him. He had been down there, he told the old fellow, for a space of time in his younger years. It would be a profitable journey for the both of them – Radagast would have the services of someone familiar with the country, and Rôg would have the benefit of Radagast’s vast knowledge of birds and his keen eye for observation. That and Rôg would have the opportunity to make contact with his tribe after such a long time away.

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BACKSTORY: Mithadan


Mithadan was born the third and youngest son of Galasmir, lord of the small port town of Lond Lefnui which lay in the Anfalas of Gondor. It was said that Galasmir and his sons were descended in direct line from Elros, son of Earendil, and thus were possessed of a degree of Elven blood. Indeed the loremasters of Gondor had presented Galasmir with a scroll, naming each of his ancestors back to the First Age and, on feast days, he would produce the scroll for his guests and point proudly the names which appeared at the head of the list: “Beren Erchamion (Camlost) and Luthien (Tinuviel).”

But the days of the First Age were long passed and now rarely did any sign of Elvish blood appear in that line. Indeed, Galasmir had fair hair and brown eyes as did two of his sons. But Mithadan was born with grey eyes and their colour did not fade or change in the weeks before his naming and thus his name was chosen. And his hair was not fair but rather raven black, the colour of the midnight sky. He grew tall and straight and when he reached his manhood, some whispered as he passed, “Verily, it is true the ancient saying that the line of Luthien and Beren shall never fail.”

Yet he remained the youngest son of a lesser, though prosperous, lord of Gondor. He had barely reached the age of twenty years at the time of the War of the Ring and had been left behind by his father to guard the town and its port while Galasmir and his other sons marched proudly to Minas Tirith. While his role was a honourable one and indeed did the Corsairs of Umbar land a force of many men in Anfalas seeking to take the port, Mithadan was ever ashamed that he did not take part in the greater events to the east. And ever and anon some foolish cot holder, whether out of spite or besottedness, would name him Mithadan the Meaningless and it cannot be said that word of this did not reach his ears.

Thus, when his brothers returned from the War (Galasmir was slain in the Siege) Mithadan resumed his studies with renewed vigor and soon, taking some few tokens of his house with him, apprenticed as a mariner. Not long thereafter, he demonstrated sufficient skill and valour in repelling a raid out of Umbar that he was given command of his own vessel and began trading along the coasts traveling even as far as the Grey Havens far to the North. And Mithadan loved especially his visits to this Elven port for, as a child, he had explored the then deserted haven of Edhellond which lay to the east of his home. With a few friends, he had snuck secretly from his house and, ignoring the legends that the haven was haunted, had journeyed there and stayed for several days with his fellows, fighting feigned battles in the defense of Gondolin where his ancestor Earendil had been born. When he returned days later, his father had beaten him soundly and forbade him from returning to the ruined city. But ever after, he fondly recalled those few days when he and his friends had been counted among the mighty of Beleriand.

Now, on one such journey to the Grey Havens, he returned with both cargo and passengers and among these was a strange Elf named Piosenniel. Tall and fair as any Elf, Piosenniel had dark hair which was oddly curled for one of the Eldar. On a leather belt, Piosenniel carried a sword and a number of sheathed knives. The belt held up breeches which in turn covered the tops of worn leather boots; a wanderer clearly this Elf. But what was most strange was that this well-armed, soldierly Elf was a maiden.

Mithadan knew that Elves valued their privacy but he found himself very curious about Piosenniel. Elven maids rarely bear arms except at last resort, it was said though none could deny their valour if old tales be true. However, she was aloof and singularly disinterested in speaking with him.

The extent of their first conversation was that she was bound for Gondor, her errand was her own thank you, and no she would not join him at the Captain’s Table. If the youngest son of a lesser lord learns little, one thing he learns is politeness. So he troubled her little, though politeness does not satisfy curiosity.

From other passengers, Mithadan learned that Piosenniel was well known in both the Grey Havens and Rivendell and had been rumoured to join the traveling companies at times, whatever they were. She was typically well mannered, if quiet, but was known to be impatient and said to be brave to the point of foolhardiness. She was also rumoured to be of odd heritage though none knew, or told, why.

No more could Mithadan learn and he resolved to let the matter drop as his vessel approached the Mouths of Anduin. Here his helmsmanship and navigational skills were needed and there was little time to think of the secretive Elf. He assumed that Piosenniel would assume some small place in his memory along with the many others who passed briefly through his life. But this was not to be.

As was told in The Voyage of the Lonely Star and The Shadow of the Star, Mithadan and Piosenniel met and journeyed together again and shared many great adventures. During the course of these adventures, they discovered they shared something else: a great love for one another. They were wed and later Piosenniel bore them three children, the twins Isilmir and Gilwen, and their daughter Camelia (Cami). They settled together in Gondor to continue their lives together as sea farers on their vessel, The Lonely Star.

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Pio – Piosenniel - Backstory

Piosenniel was born in the year 504 of the First Age. Her mother was a Kuduk, Holly, living in the Dor-Lómin region of western Beleriand. Her father was Nenwë, the son of Falastur, a captain in the service of Olwë.

Olwë was brother to Thingol who with Melian dwelt in Menegroth, the Thousand Caves. In I 505, the Sons of Fëanor attacked Menegroth, in hopes of regaining the Silmaril. It was during this battle that Nenwë fought alongside Dior, Thingol’s heir and ruler of Menegroth at that time, and both were killed in this Second Kinslaying.

Now one year old, Piosenniel was sent, with her mother, to be under the protection of Turgon’s daughter, Idril, in Gondolin. Most of the Hobbits dwelling in Beleriand had been taken to the Hidden City to be kept safe from Morgoth. It was a frightening time in Beleriand for both Elves and for Hobbits, as Morgoth’s minions harassed the Elven populations and he sought control of all Beleriand.

Piosenniel was separated from her mother and escaped from Gondolin at its fall in I 510 with Idril and her family. When Morgoth was at last overcome, and Beleriand sunk beneath the waves, Idril sent her to foster among the Teleri, Piosenniel’s kin, along the Gulf of Lhûn.

This was one of the times she held most dear. Simpler days among the Solonelli - the Surf-singers, the Falinelli - the Foam-singers. For these two words were the names the Teleri gave themselves. The harmony of their voices and the graceful rhythms of their movements adding truth to their naming.

They had taken her in as one of their own, teaching her to love the sea. A child of Ulmo she had become, brown under the sun, her arms and legs taking her far into the currents and deep below the glassy surface of the water. She had reveled in the freedom, and often, in her long life, found herself wishing she could sink once again into the salty arms of the waves.

Life was sweet to her and wondrous, and as she grew older, she had a thirst to taste all the offerings of Arda. And so she left her Elven haven and traveled out wherever her feet or a sailing ship would take her. It was during one of these journeys that she first met the young captain, Mithadan – a meeting which she did not recall.

Many years passed before Piosenniel was to meet again with Mithadan, then captain of The Lonely Star. She and her boon companion, Birdland, were in port - Harlond, just south of Minas Anor. It was there that fate conspired to bring them together with Mithadan and Cami Goodchild and set them the task that would cement the friendship of Man. Elf, Shapechanger, and Hobbit.

The journey was a long one, through time and distance. Many perils beset the companions as they strove to fulfill the task laid before them, as well as many joys, not the least of which was the love which grew between the Elf and the Man.

This was a perilous journey, in itself, but in the end they were wed, and the joyous product of their union were the twins, a boy (Isilmir) and girl (Gilwen), who were born on Midyear Day, Year 12 of the Fourth Age. One year later, on 30 Cermië, was born their second daughter – Camelia (little Cami).


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Aiwendil / Radagast the Brown


From the earliest days, Aiwendil served in the household of Yavanna helping to safeguard the kelvar and olvar of Arda and, later, caring for the living things in the Gardens of Valinor. Although he did not
possess the highest degree of wisdom or knowledge among the Maiar, Yavanna regarded him with affection both for the tenderness of his heart and the steadfastness of his stewardship. For Aiwendil was diligent in his duties and found joy in caring for all
manner of living things, especially the birds of the air with which he claimed special kinship.

During the early Third Age, when the first Shadow fell over Greenwood, Manwe summoned the Valar to a Council to consider if anything could be done to contest the
evil descending on Arda. At Manwe's urging, the Valar agreed to dispatch a number of special emissaries chosen from among the Maiar; this group came to be known as the Heren Istarion or Order of Wizards . The mission of the Istari
was to journey across the sundered seas to the North of Middle-earth where hope still survived and help awaken the Free Peoples to resist Sauron who now threatened to claim mastery over all.

Their task was fraught with hardship. By assuming physical bodies, the Istari set aside their natural protection so that, for the first time, they felt pangs of hunger and thirst and could even be slain. Nor was this their only burden. The confusion, fears and cares that pressed down upon their heads could dim the knowledge and wisdom they had brought with them from the West, much like a curtain descending over their eyes. And if any of the Istari departed from his appointed path or mission, the thicker and darker that curtain became.
Few living in Arda recognized the true nature of these messengers for the latter were counseled to conceal who they were. Neither were the Istari permitted to utilize their powers to control or dominate others, but were told to walk quietly and
speak softly, sowing seeds of resistance within the hearts of Men and Elves.

The names "Curunír" and "Olorin" were the first ones set before the assemblage that Manwe summoned, since these two Maiar were reputed to possess the highest degree of wisdom and skill. Manwe instructed Curunír, the servant of Aule, to deal with the uncorrupted Men of the West, while Olorin as a longtime member of the household of Lorien was to pay close attention to the Elder Children of Ilúvatar. Yet Yavanna was not content with this. For she feared that Sauron's wrath would fall not only upon Men and Elves but against Arda itself and all the creatures who dwelling there.

Bowing low before Manwe, Yavanna begged him to include Aiwendil among the emissaries sent over the Sea so that the kelvar and olvar would be better shielded from Sauron's evil ways. When Aiwendil first heard these words, he was afraid and felt that a doom had settled upon his head. Long years had passed since he had last walked in Arda. Its ways and people were strange to him. He deeply loved the peaceful setting of Yavanna's gardens where death never reared
its head and only wished to remain there. Only out of loyalty to the Queen of the Earth did he accede to her request and sail for the Havens with the other Istari around the year 1000 of the Third Age.

Before the great ship departed, Manwe touched the mind of each Istari and related what was expected of them. To each he allotted a different task. Then he spoke the names by which the Maiar would be known
within the lands of Arda. Aiwendel was garbed in a hooded robe of earthen brown and given the name "Radagast" which some say refers to the ruddy colorof the earth. No one knows the exact words Manwe confided to Radagast or even if, after all these years, the Istar still remembers the path
that was marked out for him.

Radagast's new form was tall and slender. He had ice blue eyes and a mop of gray hair streaked through with earthen brown that tended to fly off in all directions. Like the other Istari , he carried a wooden staff in his right hand that could
serve as a weapon, or a tool for channeling power. A great bird of prey, generally a hawk or horned owl, would perch upon his shoulder or wrist, or even atop his head.

Radagast lacked Saruman's honeyed words or the natural warmth and grace that Gandalf used to his advantage. He was by nature shy and approached the world in an earnest, intent fashion that sometimes caused those around him to smile wryly or scoff at his
seemingly simple nature. He was devoutly loyal to those few whom he admitted to his heart. Nor did he have his fellow Istari's knack for dealing effectively with practical matters. He often gave the
appearance of being distracted and confused. In reality, he preferred to turn inward, lost within his own musings, which could be of considerable depth and interest to him. With his great round eyes riveted on
some fascinating animal, the Istar would ponder the nature of the wild creature, oblivious to any Man or Elf who came within his presence to request aid or counsel. His general custom was to wander alone deep in the woods from the troubling
concerns of others.

Those few who knew him well could vouch for his warm heart and good intentions, but also sensed his spirit could be easily buffeted by the toughness of the world. Little by little, purely of his own volition, Radagast drew off by himself, preferring not to witness the carnage and mayhem that came into the lives of many in such difficult times. Instead, he occupied his days studying birds and beasts, dreaming of the time when he could return to the Gardens of
Valinor and again find peace. Yet, strange to say, the more he dreamed, the more distant the shores of the West became, as if slipping away under some hazy shadow. It was only when he visited his one true friend, Beorn the Skin-changer, who lived close by, and slept in a bed in Beorn's house that he actually heard the voice of Queen Yavanna and dreamed of the white shores and far green country.

Although Radagast never turned to evil ways, he slowly forgot why he had been sent to Middle-earth. He still carried the great staff in his right hand, but it hung dead and lifeless, a hollow shell of broken wood. Radagast's mastery of shifting shapes and hues had long been held in high regard by the other Ainur, yet now he found himself
trapped within his body, unable to change to any other form. He could still make out meaning within the voices of the birds and animals, and sometimes, on a misty night, the winds blew out of the West and cleared the clouds away. Then, he would stare up and
glimpse a great bird of fire shooting through the stars. Part of him would remember some distant secret that he suspected was important, but then the image
would fade away. Unsure of what to do, he settled in a tiny dwelling in Rhosgobel near the southern reaches of Mirkwood between the Carrock and the Old Forest Road where few travelers ventured.

Radagast’s precise activities during the War of the Ring are not reported. When Gandalf requested his assistance, he helped in whatever small ways he could. Saruman came to despise Radagast and boasted of using
him to further his own aims. In any event, at the end of the troubles, with the destruction of the Ring and the downfall of Sauron, Radagast met one last timewith his old friend Gandalf at the home of Tom
Bombadil. No one knows what they discussed, but when the ship left the Grey Havens on
September 29, 3021, Radagast was nowhere in sight. Nor did he return to the Havens for many years thereafter.

For the next twelve years, Radagast lived peacefully in Rhosgobel carrying on much as he had before; he helped to tend the trees of old Mirkwood, a spot which he cleansed and renamed Eryn Lasgalen. As his work
there ended, Radagast decided to make two
changes in his life. First, he took Rôg into his employ, a manservant of the race of Skin-changers, a pleasant fellow about whom he actually knew very little. Secondly, the Istar made a decision
to travel to the far reaches of Harad. At the beginning of our tale, Radagast and Rôg are preparing to leave Gondor to trek to the Southlands, ostensibly for the purpose of tracking down rare species of birdsand other wildlife.

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Pio – First Post for Piosenniel

The air was still and thick with the dust of several old leather-bound volumes she had pulled from the shelves. Here, on the fourth floor, in a tiny cubicle at the back of a larger room Pio sat cross-legged on the floor, the journal of one Cemendil, a trader in cochineal and indigo in the Southern Lands, perched on her knee. She was only half way through the faded pages and already yawning from the heat of the little room and inactivity. ‘I will never get this read here,’ she said to the dancing motes in the shaft of sunlight from the small window.

She laid the journal on the floor beside her and went to the door to check for the docent who had shown her to this place. She could just see his head bobbing over some bound manuscript at the far end of the big room, stopping every so often to scribble notes in the little chapbook that was his constant companion. He was engrossed in some obscure research for a class he was teaching, and for all intents and purposes had forgotten her presence.

‘Good,’ she thought to herself. With his nose stuck in his book, his thoughts wrapped round the rule of King Ostoher and the rebuilding of Minas Anor it would be easier getting round him. She picked up Cemendil’s journal and stuck it into the waistband of her breeches, letting the loose folds of her tunic hide the rectangular lump that now graced her belly. Her eyes searched quickly through the stacks for a volume of similar size and color, and having found one, she placed it into the hole where the other one had stood, the intimate companion to a book on fishing techniques found favorable along the River Morthond and another small leather journal that bore the inscription, The Sandpiper, in faint black lettering against faded red.

A captain’s log, she discovered, when she took it down and leafed quickly through the tattered edged pages. Charts of tides and currents, carefully noted with details of shoals and reefs marked clearly. ‘Lovely,’ she thought, running her fingers over the maps the good captain had made for his lugger as she plowed the waves along the shores from Cobas Haven to a small cove just south of Umbar, at the foot of the Grey Mountains. ‘Perhaps I should take this, too,’ she murmured, thinking her own store of sea charts plotted mostly the courses for ships in deeper waters. Into her waistband at the back of her breeches went the ship’s log. And again a search was mounted for a like volume to replace it.

Once done, she crept quietly behind the hunched over figure and his book on Early Gondorian History. Moving quickly to the door, she cleared it, just as his head turned in her direction. Down the hall, down the steps, she strode, her feet hurrying her down further as she made the descent from the fifth tier to the first and out the Southern Gate of the Rammas Echor. Her mount was there, a grey gelding called Sinda, waiting patiently in the green field to the west of the South Road. Pio clambered up onto the horse, her mount-up made clumsy by the unyielding tomes that splinted her mid-section.

‘Home,’ she directed, flicking the reins lightly on Sinda’s neck. The horse set off at a leisurely pace. He had taken his rider so often on this route that he could have found his way to and fro blindfolded. A short half hour later found him at the small dwelling nestled at the foot of Mindolluin.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was later that night, when the little ones were tucked in bed, that Pio got out her journal. It was an irregular habit at best, but she had told herself she would keep the unspoken promise to her old friend Cami when she had found the unused journal among the others left behind in the Shire. Lately, though, she had found herself writing down her thoughts more often . . . beginning with the day her hidebound husband had declared she would not be accompanying him on his voyage south.

The children, thankfully, had been on an overnight outing with their Aunt Rilwen, the wife of Gaerion, Mithadan’s older brother, when Mithadan had come home from the city, announcing he was to put together a trading mission to Umbar. Pio was surprised at the news. She knew the King’s minister had made the request some time before, and Mithadan had been reluctant to take it on. But now Elessar himself had urged Mithadan to undertake this on his behalf, and Mithadan had agreed.

Pio seized on the opportunity, assuming she would accompany him to Umbar. It would be the perfect opportunity she told him, for her to see what information she could ferret out on their old friend Bird. They had not heard from her in three years, since she had gone south seeking news of her kin. Her absence was always present at the back of Pio’s mind, an uneasy sense of loss. Of further concern to her, though none the less important, was that the Southern realms were still unsettled. Respect for the new King’s rule was tenuous in Umbar – given their long history of animosity toward Gondor and the pockets of shadow that yet remained despite the outcome of the War. Another able blade might keep the balance tipped toward the side of Mithadan’s and the crew’s safety.

Mithadan had listened carefully to Pio’s hastily conceived plan, and then, in his irritating way, had just as carefully detailed for her why she could not go. He could, and would, see to the safety of himself and his crew, he had informed her. She need not concern herself with that. Further, the children could not come, and he would not have them left at home without either parent for the five or so weeks it would take to complete the mission. They were too young he had told her, and he insisted that she stay with them, despite the fact that she argued his older brother and his wife would be happy to care for them this one time.

The morning after his announcement found him bleary eyed, his face drawn with fatigue, but unmoved by any of the arguments that Pio mustered. It was with great reluctance and a simmering anger at being thwarted that she acceded to his ‘request’.

Her anger had cooled these last three weeks; an unuseful emotion that produced at best only haphazard solutions to a problem she concluded. She still chafed at the fact that she had not been allowed to go, but there were only two more weeks before the Lonely Star would return. Pio smiled as she turned back to those first few days in the journal – the words pig-headed . . .obstinate . . . perverse . . . doggedly stubborn . . . narrow-minded . . . stiff-necked . . . hidebound . . . , among others, stood out on the white background of the pages, underscored and smeary where she had stabbed them out on the innocent vellum.

What had not waned was her concern for Mithadan’s safety. His assurances aside, she felt uneasy that she would not be there should he need her.

The night was warm; a breeze blew in from the river, carrying the tang of the Anduin faintly to her as she sat on the stone bench in the garden. Light, from the brass lantern hung on the fig tree’s branch above her, obscured her view of the night sky, drawing her attention in to the blank page of the journal that lay open on her knee. With measured strokes she charted her day, pushing worries she could do nothing about from her mind for a brief space of time.


Mithadan's First Post:

The breeze which entered through the open window was hot and carried with it a variety of odors. The sea tang was ever present, even as it had been in Lond Lefnui, the home of his youth. The scent of burningwood and cooking meats was also in the air. These
were familiar to Mithadan. Less familiar were the smells of the odd local flowers and fruits, yet these at least were pleasant. But less pleasant were other smells. For the air was infused with the fumes of
rotting garbage and even sewage.

The Havens of Umbar were a mighty port and city, located on the verge of the great sea. Many were the towers and spires of Umbar and the hill which overlooked the port was crowded with the houses and warehouses of the rich; the traders, lords and princelings of the city. But outside the opulence of the central square, the hill and the primary docks were the homes of the less well off. The farther one traveled to the south and east of the palace of Umbar's Lord Falasmir (as he was known in Westron) the
poorer was the housing until the surroundings
degenerated into a maze of hovels and shacks; a place of filth and violence. To the north was a river on which inland trade was conducted and across the river were plantations and farms.

Between the city and the slums to the south was a vast market which lay in a broad arc around the base of the hill. There, a dizzying variety of goods and services
could be had. Spices, foods, fine cloth, gems and metals were sold there, as were animals, including the odd humped beasts that some rode instead of horses. In the center of the market was a square which was
bordered by a large, fenced-in pen. But the pen housed not animals but rather men and women who were bought and sold for use as servants, beasts of burden and less humane tasks. Mithadan shuddered at the mere
thought of that place.

Weeks ago, the trade minister to King Elessar had approached him to undertake a voyage to Umbar, one of the first since the War of the Ring. Mithadan had been reluctant at first, but a personal note from the King had persuaded him. Piosenniel had been angry, both because of the possible danger as well as because he would not allow her to accompany her on the voyage. They had argued long into the night until she agreed
to remain at home with the children, at least for this one voyage. Gilwen, Isilmir and even little Cami had accompanied their parents on a number of voyages to the north, even to the Grey Havens. But this time,
they could not come along and Mithadan had steadfastly insisted that his wife stay with them. "Perhaps six weeks at the most," he said. "Likely five or less. We will not be long separated."

Three weeks and five days had now passed since they had left port. The Lonely Star's holds were nearly empty. The ship had carried a cargo of fine wood from Lebennin as well as the work of Gondor's craftsmen
when she had departed from Minas Anor. When she reached Umbar, she had been escorted into her berth by a black sailed corsair. The cargo had been off-loaded in a matter of days and had fetched a fine price. Then Mithadan and his crew had been eager to deal with the local traders for spices and other rarities with which to return to Gondor.

But Falasmir's trade minister has suggested (almost demanded) they wait. He explained that a great caravan was expected which
would deliver the best and newest goods at better prices. In the interim, Mithadan and his first mate, Airefalas, were invited to stay at the palace, "for just a few days, until the caravan arrives." In the interim, the crew were invited to shop at the Great
Market and enjoy the hospitality of the port.

Whenever his crew went abroad they were accompanied by guards. Yet even so, it seemed that crewmembers were often separated from their "guides" when in the Market. They learned quickly to maintain their sense
of direction and keep to the north side of the Market, away from the ghettos of the south. At least two of his crew were robbed and beaten when they wandered too far. Others had their purses cut by pickpockets.
Mithadan was ultimately forced to order his crew to stay aboard the ship except in broad daylight while travelling in groups of four or more. Even then, they ventured into the city only one group at a time. It was not long before they became bored and began to
complain, for the "few days" stretched out to a week and he had heard no word of the caravan, at least until this morning.

A messenger arrived from the trade minister bearing a note. It read: "The caravan is now two days away. Its advance riders have now arrived. Please honor the Lord Falasmir with your presence this evening for dinner, where you will be introduced to Umbar's most
reputable traders. Please attend to the Lord Falasmir this evening at six bells at the Great Hall."

Mithadan placed the note on a table, and turned to Airefalas. "Well, it seems that we may yet escape this place," he said to his first mate. "The caravan approaches and we are invited to dinner to meet some traders."

"Say not 'escape'," said Airefalas. "I do not like the sound of it. Say rather that we will depart with a full hold sooner rather than later. The Lord Falasmir's hospitality aside, I am eager to return
home. I feel as if we have been delayed
intentionally. What can this caravan hold that we cannot purchase here already?"

"I also am ready to leave," answered Mithadan. "I have not been separated from Piosenniel and the children for this long since Cami was but a babe in swaddling cloths. Falasmir, I am sure, wishes only to
present Umbar in the bast light possible. Yet I too chafe at the delay."

"At least the wine is good," said Airefalas with a slight laugh as he raised a cup. "It is the only thing that has kept the crew from mutiny, cooped as they are on the Star."

Mithadan nodded. "They are not yet that bored, and they have had a chance to explore such of the city as they might wish. And they have all filled their cabins with trade goods of their own. They will be happy when we return to Gondor."

Airefalas sipped from his cup and looked out the window at the city. The bray of some beast of burden echoed through the streets below. "None too soon," he muttered.


Rama's First Post:

The piercing rays of the sun coated the buildings and alleyways of Umbar like a thick woolen blanket surrounding the city. It was mid-afternoon, the time when most residents wisely remained under walls and roofs that could shield them from the stifling heat and glare. The streets were bathed in silence, the markets empty. Only a servant or two trudged unwillingly about on business, hauling jugs of water and supplies, or engaging in other errands at the whim of some great lord. Rich or poor, few voluntarily ventured out at this time of day when the air hung so oppresively heavy that it was difficult to catch one's breath.

In a few hours, with the approach of early evening, this scene would dramatically alter. The quiet streets would waken as elegant villas and sqaulid shacks threw back their doors, and residents spilled out onto the streets. Crowded throngs of citizens would go about their business or pleasure often till late into the night. By its very nature, Umbar was a city of darkness. Only at night, or in the few hours immediately following dawn when many still lay abed, could a resident of Umbar conduct public business in reasonable comfort.

A half-shadowed figure stood beside the open casement in the Common Room at The Cat's Paw, a small and ancient hostelry that was tucked away on a forgotten lane far from the main thoroughfares criss crossing the city. The figure at the window instinctively drew back so that she could watch those passing in front of the Inn, while still making it difficult for them to catch a clear glimpse of her own face and figure. The woman appeared to be young, no more than twenty years of age, with masses of cascading black curls framing a well-tanned face and alert brown eyes that were highlighted with flecks of gold. Short and lithe, she sported leather boots and a scarlet pelicon elaborately embroidered with silhouettes of birds worked in golden thread. This was worn over a pair of long pants that flared out almost like a skirt, an outfit in which she could sit astride a horse with ease but still manage to blend into the finest establishments of Umbar. Tucked deep under her belt within a leather sheath, she carried two jambiyas, the traditional doubled-edged curved daggers of the southern peoples.

To her friends and family she was 'Rama', a name that means 'Wing of the Eagle'. Those in Umbar regarded her as a well-to-do Mannish desert dweller, a representative of one of the more powerful tribes living in the region to the east. She did nothing to dispel that illusion, which was essential to her safety and that of her people. In truth, the woman was a Skinchanger, one of those rare folk who are spoken of in legend, much feared and courted by so-called normal men. She had been sent on an errand by her own tribe, those few who rejected the overall leadership of the confederated clans. Her ostensible mission was to represent her kin in their business dealings with the wealthiest families of Umbar. In this regard, Rama could offer her customers three exceptional commodities that were much prized by those of high rank and fortune: the rare white merino sheep whose silky wool was so valued by ladies at court, the sturdy camels who could glide like ships across the deep sands, and, sweetest of all, the prized stallions and mares who ran as sure and fleet as the wind roaring across the desert.

Yet, at the moment, Rama's mind was not on trade, nor even on the horses that she loved. She uneasily surveyed the street below, searching vainly for any sign of her kinsman who was now some two hours late. The woman's fingers drummed nervously against the window ledge as she considered what to do. For trade was only a small part of her assignment.. Her proud parents and kin preferred to lead their own lives in fierce independence and eschew any involvement with outsiders, almost like solitary eagles atop a cliff. But that had become increasingly difficult. Disturbing rumors swirled through the desert. These rumors spoke not of harassment and attack on the part of Mannish clans, an all too common occurence when men awoke to the reality of Skinchangers in their midst. Rather, they spoke of a new threat from within her own people: Skinchangers who wanted to expand their influence outward and who threatened to eliminate all those refusing to give proper allegiance to the main wyrm chieftain.

These charges and concerns were not new, but lately they had taken on a more somber tone. Since her own family and kin had no intention of honoring the directives of the wyrm leader, such rumors posed a serious threat. She and her elder cousin Thorn had been sent to gather whatever information they could to find out what lay behind all this. In most lands to the north and west, one as young as Rama might not have been burdened with such a task. But this was Umbar, and young ones grew up fast. Either that, or they perished from the dangers and intrigues that constantly surrounded them. Rama knew that most young women her own age were already married, or at least have secured promises for the future. That was not an option for her. Pushing down the bitterness that threatened to surface again, she forced herself to concentrate on the immediate problem at hand.

That evening, she was expected to attend an audience at the Great Hall of Lord Falasmir as one of the traders in the area to meet with foreign shipowners from the city of Minas Tirith. The shipowners did not interest her in the slightest. But the chance to gain admission to court and pick up information was another thing. Surely she could arrive at the palace just a few hours early to make some polite inquiries as to the whereabouts of her cousin who was supposed to be tending several prized steeds that Falismar had recently purchased from her clan. Or perhaps she could even make discreet inquiries and learn something more of those strange rumors.

How she hated playing a game like this! She would rather have been free to ride out of the city and return to the wild desert lands that she loved. Only there would she find a way through to solve her personal dilemma. But that, too, was a luxury she could ill afford. Rama pushed personal thoughts from her mind one last time and went out to saddle Kyelek, quickly making her way into the street and turning the animal's nose in the direction of the palace.

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Additional Characters:

Baran (Mithadan) - A Beorning who has journeyed to Gondor seeking news of his kin, the Shapechangers.

Chief of the Wyrm Clan (Estelyn Telcontar)

Airefalas - First Mate of the Lonely Star.

Member of the Wyrm Clan (Kuruharan)

Members of the "Rebel" Clans

NOTE: Some of the foregoing characters have posted in The Seventh Star Inn. Many of their posts will be moved to the RPG thread once it opens.