A few days after their time in Esteme Ketor, Arane and Legolas came into a land called Calar. It was a flat land that was inhabited by a people much like the hobbits of Middle-earth. In all turth, there were actually two peoples who lived there, but the second was in less numbers.
Both peoples called themselves Telokin. One was short, large footed, refused to wear shoes, prone to be a little on the hefty side, and were by all means exactly like the hole dwelling halflings of the Shire. The second grew tall, was lithe, dark of hair and eyes except on very rare occations, and retained their youthful look of late teens and early twenties untill their death.
It was a small country, but a healthy land full of people excited to see a new commer.
Arane and Legolas were bombarded with manny questions as they passed through the small towns by the shorter folk. They soon learned that it was the less seen, taller people who were more apt to answer a question than ask one. Thus, the first of the taller Telokin race they saw, they asked for directions to the nearist inn.
“Hello there!” Legolas called out to the auburn haired, deep green eyed Telokin woman as she led the donky pulling the cart along from atop his horse.
She nodded and gave a quick smile at the travelers and turned back away from them, working with a knot in a rope holding down the tarp on her wagon again.
“Excuse me?” Arane tried again to gain her attention. This woman is strange, even for her people. Or maybe she’s just rude to evry passer-by. he thought to himself. “Could you tell us where the next inn might be found?”
“I’m headed that way myself.” she replied, hervoice nearly a song in its self. “It’s about three more days horseback from here.”
“Thank you.” Legolas said and tapped his horse with his heals to go a bit faster, but the woman called out to them and he brought the horse to a stop.
“You shouldn’t be going off by yourselves like that.” she warned.
“Then why did you?” he asked.
“I know the land. I know how to defend myself against the others.”
“We are plenty able of taking care of ourselves, miss, thank you.” Arane said to her.
“From thoes you’d call Maiar and istari? Could you defend yourselves from one of them if they were to attack you?”
Legolas and Arane looked at each other for a moment. Perhaps they should stay and keep her company if she meant that there were wizards who’d attack the innocent here in these lands.
“I have guided manny of your line, young prince.” the woman said to Legolas. “It has been manny a year since your brother was through here last.”
“I believe you are mistaken.” Legolas rode clocer to her. “I have only a sister and a father left to call family. Never did I have a brother.”
“Perhaps your father simply never told you of him.” the woman said. “I can understand why. Lendolin died on the island called Norodil some five hundred years ago. The poor thing simply wasn’t ready for the journey and times were hard then here anyway.
“What are your names?” she asked.
“I see no reason to tell you if you already know where we are from. Nor have you told us your name, only the name of a man that never lived.”
“Fine then. I am Narinya Timichara Ceit Cocachitawa.” she said.
“And for shaort-?” Arane asked, compleatly confused at why the woman would have so manny names. Elves had three, but only answered to the last of them.
“Ceit.” she said. “I only know that you are a prince of Mirkwood, not your names.”
Well. She will be our traveling companion for the next few days. Why not? “I am Legolas Greenleaf son of Thrandruil, and this is Arane a townsman of my father’s lands.”
One night as the sat by the fire, Arane noted that Ceit was staring into the flames unblinking, muttering something to herself. He didn’t recognise the words or have a clue as to where the language might be spoken. It sounded rough like the dwarven battle cry in one instant, then melodic and fluid like Quenya the next, giving it a nearly Sindarin quality when mixed with the beauty of her voice.
“What is that you say?” he asked her.
“What?” she looked up, blinking several times to regain her night vision.
“What were you saying?” he repeated.
“Just an old prayer to the Malthín for protection.” she said.
“Why do you think that we should need protection on this night, but not last night?” Legolas asked.
“The dogs are about.” she said simply. “It is late, my friends. We should be going to sleep soon.”