Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[Imladris]

After a few hours of traveling in the fading afternoon, they small company reached the village. It was a comparatively small village with shambling hovels and weedy yards. Most of the houses had small gardens, which seemed to be the only thing that thrived. They neared a crumbling cottage, however, that did not have a garden. Or if, there was one, could not be distinguished from the amongst the weeds.

“I will go in alone,” said Aeron as they neared their gardenless cottage. “She does not care for strangers,” he added. It wasn’t an outright lie. No strangers ever came to their wealthy hovel, so maybe she was and maybe she wasn’t. He needed to talk to her alone before any of the others saw her.

He pushed the door and it opened with soft creak. “Gwyllion,” he called. No answer. “Gwyllion!” he called again, only louder this time. “ Gwyllion! ” Where could she be? Frowning, he ran to the kitchen -- and froze.

Gwyllion was crouched in the corner, moaning and rocking softly. A knife, daubed with blood, was some feet away from her knees. Rivulets of blood streamed down her hand, their source a nasty cut on her second finger. The blood would rise bulbously from the cut, flow down her finger, and separate from the knuckle, creating a sort of delta around it. “Oh no…” he whispered.

She was muttering something and Aeron crept forward, hoping to catch the words. “I am dying…I am dying… I am dying! ”

Aeron felt cold; his lips were dry. Was she really dying? He bolted to her, tearing a strip of cloth from his shirt as he did so.

Her dark blue dress clung to her, damp with sweat, and she rocked violently back and forth. “ I do not want to die! ” Aeron tried to grasp her hand, but she fought him and slapped him across the face. Small convulsions rippled through her body; her breathing was quick and shallow, almost as if she was gasping for air. What if the fit continued, and she couldn’t breathe? He shuddered.

He slapped her. Hard. It was a finger of pain to drag her from her sea of terror. She stopped shaking, and Aeron wiped the blood from her hand and bound the cut, tightly. “There is nothing to fear, little Gwyll,“ he murmured.

Finally, she raised her thin pale face and smiled at him. “Aeron.”

“Fearful One,” Aeron returned, shoving her slightly.

“Cruel hearted one!” she shouted, pushing him back.

“I have told you not to use knives when I’m gone,” he said, frowning at her. “You always manage to cut yourself.” He paused. She had always been petrified of blood…of anything that looked like blood. He tittered when he remembered the first time she had seen a goblet full of red wine, only she thought it had been blood and had refused to drink it.

“Did you find anything of value?” she asked.

“Yes,” he snapped, the memory of Ravion and his bondage coming back to him like an unpleasant dream returns to one newly awakened. He quickly told her how he had been caught and about Ravion’s deal. “Gwyllion, we must be careful about this. If either of us misbehave, we will find ourselves in a jail cell.”

“With mice to play with,” she added quickly.

“I would think that it would be rats instead of mice,” Aeron said. “Do not do anything foolish, Gwyllion.”

“I would never!” she cried. “Methinks you should listen to your advice, Aeron the Thief, Aeron the Mischief-maker, Aeron the Swindler.”

“Well, come. They are waiting for us outside,” he said quickly, grasping her hand and pulling her to her feet. He wondered briefly if he should forewarn her about Raefindan’s red hair -- and then decided not to. It would be interesting to see if she truly was afraid of the colour red.

“Ravion, Raefindan, and Mellonin, this is my sister Gwyllion.”

He glanced down at her and saw that her blanched cheeks and followed her gaze to Raefindan. “I told you he was a foreigner,” he muttered.

“His hair is red! How do you know he is not a Gondorian who colored it…somehow?”

Without waiting for him to answer, she skipped towards Ravion and, with a deep curtsey, said, “Ravion, my brother’s liege.”

She curtseyed again, and then crept towards the horse, and began to stroke his muzzle. Aeron strode to Mellonin and whispered, “Keep her away from knives.”

[Orual]

Ravion frowned as they approached Aeron's home. It was run-down and little more than a hovel. He glanced at the boy, who was determinedly refusing to look at him. What sort of place was this to grow up in?

"I will go in alone. She does not care for strangers," Aeron said as he walked into the house. Ravion, who had stepped forward to accompany him into the house, fell back and went back to Mellonin and Raefindan.

He ran his fingers through Gond's mane, clumsily combing out the knots and tangles. The horse looked at him with liquid brown eyes, and Ravion smiled. "We'll be back on the road soon," he promised in a whisper. Gond bobbed his head, and Ravion leaned against his neck.

Aeron was taking a long time. Ravion, impatient and a little worried, hummed an old Rohirric tune. He had learned it from a young Rohirric soldier he had fought alongside. It was traditional to sing it before a battle: haunting, wistful, in a minor key, it matched his temperment well. He didn't feel like singing it outright yet. This was not a battle. Yet.

Finally Aeron came out, with his younger sister in tow. "Ravion, Raefindan, and Mellonin, this is my sister Gwyllion," he said curtly. Ravion inclined his head politely, but Gwyllion was not paying attention to him. Instead, she was staring with rapt attention at Raefindan.

"His hair is red!" she exclaimed in wonder. Ravion snorted and turned to pretend to adjust something on Gond's saddle to mask his mirth.

Then Gwyllion skipped towards Ravion and curtsied deeply, saying, "Ravion, my brother’s liege."

She curtseyed again, leaving Ravion somewhat bemused. She then went closer to Gond and started stroking his muzzle. With a confused look on his face, Ravion studied her.

His first impression was that she was a little...strange. Very gregarious, to be sure. Open. Innocent. That might be a problem. He'd have to find a way to keep her from talking to everybody they came across. A search mission like this involved lying low and keeping quiet. She was petite, somewhat messy. His eyes went towards her hands, still stroking Gond. A bloodstained bandage was wrapped around one of her fingers.

"Gwyllion, come here," he said, and the girl, with a slight frown, went to him. He found a small bag of bloodmoss and took a pinch out, then unwrapped her bandage slowly, carefully.

"Well-wrapped bandage, Aeron," he said shortly, not looking at Aeron. "Good and tight. Bloodmoss will stop the flow of blood and help healing, though, so it is generally a good idea to put a little in between the bandage and the wound. Hand cuts bleed a lot. Rarely dangerous, but always messy." After putting the herb against the cut, he wrapped the bandage back around Gwyllion's finger.

"There," he said, knotting the bandage. "You can't be so careless," he added in a much rougher voice. He needed to make sure that they would listen to him, and heed what he said. This would not be an easy trip. "Every bit of bloodmoss that I use on you is a bit of bloodmoss that we won't have if something serious happens. I won't fault you for injuries sustained if there is a battle, or an accident. But I will hold you accountable for injuries sustained from carelessness or silliness. I am bringing you for your brother's sake, and I am bringing him for his oath's sake. We are all going for Mellonin's sake. I will not have your carelessness bringing danger onto us. You'll have a lot to learn, and I expect you to be a quick study."

He turned back to Mellonin. "I suggest we put some miles behind us," he said mildly.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin nodded at Ravion. "By all means." Then she reached out a hand to Gwillion. "But don't you have anything you'd like to bring with you? A cloak perhaps, and an extra dress? Perhaps some of your brother's clothes?"

She turned to Aeron. "We did bring a water bottle and blankets for her, and food. But we have no cloak or clothes for her."

Aeron nodded, and said, "Watch her, please." Mellonin nodded; at the moment, Gwillion was entranced with Gond, and chatted happily with him. Aeron returned shortly with an awkward bundle of things tied up in a thick but tattered blanket.

Mellonin sighed, hoping that the bundle would prove useful, worrying that it might not. Then she smiled. Likely enough, a thiief learns what is needful for a journey.

And if not, they would have to make do.

Ravion gave Raefindan some orders, and Raefindan took the lead. Ravion gestured that Aeron should be next. Aeron took Gwillion's hand, and she walked by his side.

Mellonin followed; then Ravion with Gond. Gond perked up once they left the village, and his stride lengthened and his eyes brightened. Every now and again, a cheerful snort misted Ravion's clothing. As always, Ravion considered it a token of affection.

[Imladris]

Aeron nodded to Mellonin and dashed into the little hovel to gather Gwyllion’s things. It would have been useless to have told Gwyllion to pack her own things. She would have insisted that she did not need a thing, that people who bring luggage are silly and then, when she would lie shivering in the chill nights, would admit that she should have brought a blanket or another cloak or two.

On a dusty, splintering desk, was a silver comb. Ratty brown hair was snarled about the twines and he was sure that he saw the carcass of a sort of six legged bug buried within the tangled nest. He tore the hair from the comb and let it drift to the floor unheeded. Clothes were scattered across the floor, and he inspected these one by one. A pair of breeches, a white blouse, a brown cloak, and her green dress would do well enough for her.

As he packed, he was glad that Gwyllion had not thought of a saucy reply for Ravion’s rebuke of her carelessness. It would have caused trouble if she had -- for once she had controlled her tongue.

Striding to the farther end of the room, he put his right heel to his left toe and began to count his foot lengths under his breath. On the count of five, he wavered precariously, and tumbled to the floor, cursing under his breath. He repeated the process and on the tenth foot length, he kneeled, and pried a rotten board from the floor. A musty, mold ridden silk bag was nestled under it, and Aeron snatched it and tossed it with Gwyllion’s clothes. He did not savour the idea of begging for their meat.

Stuffing the clothes and money into a blanket, he trotted back to the company and tossed the bag to Gwyllion, who, in turn, tossed it back to him.

Ravion glowered at them and Aeron obeyed the command that glowed from his green eyes. Ravion arranged them in a neat little order, and Aeron took Gwyllion’s hand.

“This will not be much of an adventure, I fear,” Gwyllion whispered. “Still…” she sighed and her eyes softened. “Thinking that one is an elf…how wonderful.”

“How unfortunate, you mean,” Aeron returned. “Thinking that you are an elf and being an elf are two entirely different things.”

“I suppose so,” she said.

“Nothing about this trip is wonderful,” Aeron said. “I cannot steal, and we cannot misbehave.” He sighed and tossed the Gwyllion’s bundle to her. She caught it, and then threw it lightly back to him. Aeron stepped away from her and threw it again. “We have nothing to amuse us but a mindless, unchallenging game of catch.”

“Which is better than nothing,” Gwyllion said.

[mark12_30]

Gwillion and Aeron continued their game of catch. Minas Tirith was receding into the distance, and Mellonin looked back at it often. The only time she had ever left it, she had gone south, and then only as far as Emyn Arnen in South Ithilien. Watching Minas Tirith dwindle gave her a sinking, yet exciting feeling.

Ravion noticed each time she turned, and tried to hide his smile.

I will not let him doubt my courage. I will not. So each time, she gave him a brave nod, and turned her face northwestward again.

They crested a low rise, and Raefindan looked back at Ravion. He pointed, and they turned a little more westward. The Anduin glimmered off to their right. And as they descended the hill, Minas Tirith was for a while hidden from their view.

Mellonin set her face northwestward, squinted into the setting sun, and marched. Sheep and cows grazed on the hillsides. Off in the distance, she heard a warning bark.

Gond snorted; Ravion looked for the sound. But Aeron turned toward Gwillion, and Mellonin wondered why. The bark got louder and closer, and Gwillion's fright increased.

[Imladris]

Short sharp barks. Dogs did bad things -- they ripped throats from victims. Bloodied chunks of flesh would hang from their yellowed fangs, which would be revealed by black lips curled back in a growling snarl. She swallowed, trying to quell the heart that increased from a soft patter to bounding leaps.

At that moment a scrawny creature with bright, brown eyes slunk from the underbrush. He snarled, revealing only one yellowed fang instead of two. Mud clung to his fur, and bound his tail to his hind legs. With a sharp box, he sat down in the middle of the path, and stared at them. He licked his chops, just as if we are a platter of raw steak swimming in blood…

[mark12_30]

Raefindan chuckled. "Well, hello, old fellow. Have we been trespassing? Look at you. You need a bath. Come here. It's all right."

Ravion looked worriedly at the redheaded man, and frowned. Gwillion said in a soft but shrill voice, "Don't touch him. He'll rip your throat out. Don't go near him!"

Raefindan turned to look at Gwillion, and said, "He's not happy, but he's not rabid. Don't worry, Gwillion." Turning back to the mongrel he spoke in a gentle, high voice. "Come here, old fellow. It's all right. Come on."

The dog whined, shifted his front paws, stood, sniffed and approached Raefindan step by step.

"That's it, old fellow. You're okay. Good boy."

"He'll bite you, " Gwillion said, moving to hide behind her brother.

"Hush, Gwill. Wait and see," said Aeron.

Raefindan let the dog sniff his hand, knelt down and scritched his ears. THe one-fanged dog licked his hand.

Raefindan stood, and nodded to Ravion, who waved him on. Gond gave the dog a worried look. As Raefindan marched forward, the dog began to follow, jumping and licking Raefindan's hand.

"We're not feeding him too," Ravion growled. "Go on. Be off!"

The dog eyed Ravion warily, and trotted resolutely after Raefindan. Gwillion kept her brother between her and the dog at all times. But the dog was interested only in Raefindan. Despite numerous attempts to run him off, he followed the rest of the day. The little band walked until the stars were out, and they came to a stream, where Ravion ordered them to camp for the night.