Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[mark12_30]

Raefindan watched Gwyllion petting Jorje til there was peace in Gwyllion's eyes, and then he nodded to her. "All right, Gwyllion. Let's walk. Would you like Jorje to walk with you?"

He picked up his pack. The group began walking with the early winter sun behind them, and their shadows were long upon the grass.

[Orual]

The sharp cracks from Aeron's knife against the piece of wood resonated in Ravion's head. Snap. Snap. It had a pattern, an entirely unintentional musicality to it, that stemmed from Aeron's emotions.

It didn't take Ravion's Ranger training to tell him that the boy was angry. He knew from his own experience that every emotion had its own rythm. Happiness was bright and stacatto; sadness was slow and drawn-out; nervousness was quick and brief; and anger...anger was broken, hard, and fast. Ravion sighed, put down his pack, and walked over to Aeron.

"I don't want to be your enemy, Aeron," Ravion said without preamble. He leaned on his arm against the tree that Aeron was sitting under. The boy did not look up at him. Ravion sighed again, and turned to press his back against the trunk. "Aeron. Are you listening to me?"

"I can hear you," Aeron said noncomittally.

"Aeron, this trip won't be pleasant if we fight the whole way. You obviously misinterpreted what I said to your sister. But you have to understand that time is of the essence. If she keeps having these fits, we'll lose valuable time. Now, we can fight, or we can be civil to each other. Which will it be?"

With an air of relief, Ravion waited for Aeron's response. At least he had gotten through it without actually saying the word "sorry"...

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Each day seemed to grow more and more strange to Bellyn. The wayfarers intrigued her, to say the least, but now they had two of the folk traveling with them. The young Rohirric lady, Argeleafa, Bellyn had no qualms with. In fact, Bellyn thought it rather nice to have another companion. Not just because Argeleafa was female, but also because it seemed to Bellyn that she knew as little about adventure and traveling as Bellyn did.

This new wayfarer, the Easterling, who had been called 'Mellon' by Amroth, turned out to be another matter entirely. Bellyn hadn't planned on ever seeing a weapon in Ædegard's hand, much less in Liornung's grasp. The boy had bitten Liornung! Bellyn scowled at the boy as Amroth dazed into and out of consiousness. She tried her best to remember the conclusion she and Liornung had come up with about Ædegard, and hoped that Mellon would calm.

"For one who wished for no sleep, Amroth seems to have dropped off quite easily," Bellyn murmured, looking at Amroth. Liornung sighed and Bellyn caught a hint of a snort from Ædegard, who watched the boy speaking to the sleeping Amroth. Bellyn sighed, glancing at Argeleafa and Liornung, to Ædegard, to Mellon and Amroth, then back again. "It does not look like Amroth shall be waking any time soon."

"Right. We need to get 'Mellon' to stop dragging him around then," Ædegard pointed out, interlocking his fingers and resting his hands behind his head.

"To do that we need to be sure 'Mellon' will not bite us," Argeleafa added softly, and Liornung nodded approvingly to her.

"How do we go about doing this, then?" Bellyn wondered aloud. She wished she was brave enough to walk right up to Mellon and help to tame the lad, but with several glances at Liornung's arm, Bellyn was forced to think twice. "While we all figure how to complete this task, would you like me to tend to your arm, Liornung?"

[Nurumaiel]

As soon as the boy was off his horse Ædegard took hold of the reins so there would be no more danger of being ridden down. Liornung found himself immensely touched by the way Pig pleaded with Amroth, trying to get his friend to wake up. "Hold a moment," Liornung murmured to Bellyn. "I would speak with the boy." He took a hesitant step forward, saying softly, "He's all right, lad, merely tired..." but Pig jumped up and placed himself in front of Amroth once again, glaring fiercely at Liornung. The fiddler drew back warily, remembering his injured hand. Argeleafa touched his shoulder and murmured, "Please let me try to talk to him... he knows my face whether he trusts it or not." She moved closer to the boy, and Liornung stepped back, holding out his injured hand so Bellyn might tend to it.

"Pig," Argeleafa began, but could not continue for she choked on the word. What was it that Amroth had called the lad. It was a strange word and she spoke it hesitantly, her accent Rohirric and her pronunciation of the word odd, but the tone in which she spoke it merited the word. "Mellon..." The boy met her eyes, distrust and confusion in them. "Mellon, please, you must understand that these people here are friends of your friend there - " how foolish she was to have forgotten the name so soon " - and desire to be your friends. If you will not accept their friendship at least do not harm them further."

The boy did not answer, nor did he move away from Amroth, but the dangerous look in his eyes relaxed a bit though he still seemed wary. Argeleafa returned to the rest of the group. "I can do no more now," she said. "At least I don't think he will harm you again, as long as we do not appear to pose any threat to your friend."

Liornung looked with admiration on the neat, white bandage Bellyn had put on his hand and thanked her gratefully before answering Argeleafa. "It will not be easy to bring him to trust us," he said. "It would be best if we merely showed that we are friendly and not show any hostility towards him. I regret sorely that I drew my weapon, and my surprise at his own hostility was no excuse for it." He returned his gaze to the bandage on his hand but this time the expression on his face was rueful. "Alas, I fear this wound will hinder my fiddling in no little way. However I will sing The Fair Maid of Gondor for you again so we might have something to do whilst we wait for the lad to begin dragging good Amroth off again. I have no doubt he will try. Just keep in mind, friends, that we must stop him not through force but through kind persuasion. We'll convince him, if possible, that it would be a good thing if Amroth were to remain resting where he was, for the boy really does cares for him."

[mark12_30]

Ædegard watched the wild boy. The horses grazed here and there. Ædegard, Bellyn, Liornung and Argeleafa traded songs, and stories. Ædegard's stories were as grim as Liornung's were merry.

To Liornung's relief, the wild boy did not try to drag Amroth away again as long as they maintained their distance. Instead, he stood guard and kept his horse nearby. When Echo wandered near, the boy caught him, and kept him nearby as well. As long as the boy remained calm, Ædegard's blade remained sheathed.

Two hours passed in this uneasy truce. Then the day clouded over, the wind blew chill from the east, and shivering in the cold Amroth struggled against his dreams. He murmured and tossed, and the boy began to plead with him again, but Amroth did not wake.

[Imladris]

"Now, we can fight, or we can be civil to each other. Which will it be?"

Aeron raised his head, and glanced at the ranger as they both made their way to the head of the small caravan. He considerred. He supposed the ranger was not that bad...but he had such a cryptic attitude. A scowlish smile flashed across his face and he said, "I suppose we can be civil to each other."

Ravion nodded, and strode to the head of the procession, while Aeron lingered beside his sister Gwyllion. Pebbles lined the way and Aeron stooped and picked them up, cramming them into his palm.

Glancing askance at Ravion, he whispered, "Gwyllion, hold your hand out!" Like the obedient, adoring, younger sister that she was, she did and he deposited the pebbles in her sooty hand. "What is this for?" she asked, raising her brows. He leaned down and whispered something into her ear.

She frowned, then smiled, then frowned again. "If I come under his cold wrath, it's your fault and I won't hesitate to put the blame on you."

He scoffed.

Fingering a pebble, Gwyllion tossed it at Ravion's head. The pebbled darted through the air, and hit the ranger's head with a dull smack. Aeron, at the same time, mimicked Gwyllion's subtle toss with slight exaggeration. She did it again, trying to stifle her laughter, and he mimicked her again, this time with a slightly greater exaggeration.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and glanced back. She was astonished to see Gwillion toss a pebble at Ravion. At a ranger, and a temperamental ranger at that. She is moonstruck, thought Mellonin with deepening horror.

The more she watched Gwillion, the more she feared for Mellondu.

Should she say something? What would Ravion do? Would Ravion's coldblooded fury end in poor Gwillion's sudden death? Or, more likely, Aeron's?

[alaklondewen]

Four fleeting shadows moved effortlessly along the forest floor. The light was failing and they increased their speed until they reached the southwest border of the forest. The obvious leader whispered his orders in a tone that would have been inaudible to any mortal being, and the foursome spread out among the trees. In the upper branches of these border mellyrn, talain, very similar to Erebemlin’s dwelling yet smaller in diameter and unfurnished, were built for the border guards when Lorien was more populated before the War of the Ring. It was on these talain that the four elves waited for a sign from an enemy that was surely approaching.

Erebemlin’s gaze pierced the growing darkness. He expected to see the Orcs moving in the next few hours, but he would not be taken off guard if they arrived sooner rather than later. Repositioning is longbow in the palm of his hand, the Sinda made himself ready for a long wait and the battle to come.