Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

‘Close your minds, Taitheneb, Erebemlin. All of you; close your thoughts, even to one another.’

The time had gone by slowly since the warning made by Amroth. The passionate travelers rode ever on towards a destination unknown to Bellyn, who was still confused by the words of her companion.

Close my mind? She wondered, biting her lip though she’d had long hours to contemplate the words. How am I ever going to do that? The idea seemed rather absurd to Bellyn, who had no idea how to accomplish such a task. Is my mind like a door? To be opened and shut at will by any who seek to read my thoughts?

Lost in her thoughts, Bellyn swayed and shifted in her saddle. Argeleafa spoke a word to her, but was hushed immediately. Bellyn felt badly for Argeleafa, and shrugged in Erebemlin’s direction at seeing Argeleafa’s hurt face. The seriousness of the ride, when combined with the long, sleepless hours did not help anyone’s mood. Bellyn squeezed her eyes shut, then wiped away the tears accumulated from yawning.

Like weathered trees that had long since grown roots to face the merciless wind, expressions on the Elves remained stony and rough. Dawn did not bring comfort or relief from the harsh night, and it seemed as if hope drifted farther away with every hour spent riding across the land. There seemed no intention of stopping from anyone in the group.

Bellyn dare not speak for fear of Erebemlin’s wrath, but the awkward silence of it all made her want to scream.

[littlemanpoet]

Aeron moved to Gwyllion and nudged her shoulder. "Gwyll?" Her eyes fluttered and opened. "Gwyll!" She winced.

"Ow! Must you scream in my ear, you naughty boy?"

"Gwyll! You're awake!" Raefindan chuckled; Aeron's smile threatened to crack his face, it was so big.

She sat up and looked at him, stunned. "You died! I saw you drown! Or was that a dream?" She closed her eyes and shook her head as if trying to shake away the last cobwebs of sleep.

"The swamp elf took you from us, Gwyll! You've been asleep for days!"

Her eyes went wide, then narrowed to slits. "Do not jest so cruelly with me!"

"It is the truth, Gwyllion," Raefindan said. "It is good to see you awake and yourself."

She looked at Raefindan, confused. "I could not be someone else."

Raefindan smiled. "No, of course not."

"But he still has Mellonin," Ravion grated.

"The swamp elf has Mellonin?" Gwyllion asked, horrified.

"Aye," answered Raefindan. "He holds our choices hostage as long as he keeps her. If his treatment of you is any sign, we would do well to continue to do his bidding, which is to make our way back to Minas Tirith. Maybe he will return her to us safe and sound. Let us break our fast and be ready to go before the sun rises a half a hand's breadth higher."

They did as he said. Soon they were moving south, Jorje romping ahead on the open plain, running freely like he could not on the narrow paths of the swamp.

They halted for a noon meal when the sun was at its height. As they sat in a circle, glum for the lack of Mellonin, a party of a dozen or so men could be seen approaching on horseback from the south.

"Do you see them?" asked Erundil, pointing. "They are far from the road. I wonder what they do so near the swamp?"

"I know not," said Raefindan, "but they seem to be headed our way."

So it was. In another minute, the horsemen had come near enough to be seen clearly.

"Oh no," said Aeron. "That merchant is with them."

Raefindan stood, and the others followed his lead. In moments, they were surrounded by fourteen horsemen, swords drawn. Raefindan picked out their leader by his crested helm, for twelve who were with the merchant and his man at arms, wore soldierly garb.

"Good day to you. Your actions show you to be hostile to us. Why is this?"

"There are two among you who are thieves." He eyed Aeron and Gwyllion pointedly. "We have come to take them back to Minas Tirith, and claim our reward for their capture."

"You may not have them," Raefindan said evenly.

"We shall have them, and you will not stand in our way, at peril to your lives."

[Imladris]

The merchant blinked his eyes at them. They had just gotten through with this some time ago. "You are outnumbered. If you do not let us have them, you will be taken by force. And we will not hesitate to kill." The merchant glanced at one of them and said, "Lord Fingon I believe?"

His eyes flitted and he nodded.

"Ah. I do not believe I have seen a more womanish lord, if man or lord you are."

Fingon's fist clenched.

"Now, as I said," the merchant added languidly as he gestured to the boy and girl, "these two, Aeron and Gwyllion are their names, are thieves. They have never been caught and I believe baskets of stolen necklaces lie buried in their rubbishy hut."

Aeron coughed loudly and said pointedly, "It is very unbecoming of you to accuse the innocent."

"What do you mean boy,?" the merchant asked. He was like a cur. So disrespectful.

"Gwyllion never stole," Aeron said, casting a disdainful eye at the merchangt.

Gwyllion frowned and darted a glance at him.

A light flickered in the merchant's eye. "Never?"

Glaring at his sister, Aeron said, "Well, hardly ever."

"As I said, I will take these two for justice," said the merchant. "These scum have been thieving since the day they were born. Justice is needed."

[mark12_30]

Tharonwe's head turned as a groan escaped from the sleeping woman. He frowned; had he not wrapped her in silence? She should be lying quiet.

She groaned again. He scowled, probing her thoughts, and then recoiled in revulsion as she took a deep breath and sneezed, once, twice, three times, four times.

His eyes blazing with anger, he siezed as much of her cloak as easily came into hsi hands, wound it, and held it tightly over her mouth to quiet her. Half-tempted to snuff her life out, he resisted; she was more useful to him alive than dead. But the wretch would give away their hiding place with her pathetic sickness....

The large group, nearby, was busy discussing the fate of the two theives, and the girl's distant, muffled sneezing was lost amid the quarrel.

[Orual]

Ravion stood stiffly with his hand on the hilt of his sword, practically bristling with rage but attempting to keep his temper, or at least hold his tongue. What was the merchant thinking, returning here? Did he not know what the last few days had been? No, of course not. But Ravion did, and he resented the merchant for choosing this moment. It seemed appropriate, in a grim and darkly ironic way, that the merchant had arrived just after their swift downward spiral into misery had taken a jog upwards with Gwyllion regaining consciousness.

"Justice is needed," declared the merchant haughtily. He tilted his head back slightly, drawing himself taller. He did it so that he could look down his nose at Aeron and Gwyllion.

"Justice," Ravion echoed, with a rough and mirthless laugh. Everyone turned to look at him. He stared back at them for a moment, confused: he had not meant to speak aloud.

"Yes, Ranger, if that is what you truly are, justice," the merchant replied. "It should be an idea that comes easily to your kind. However, it seems to have passed you by. Ranger, indeed."

"I am a Ranger," Ravion shouted in return. Raefindan made a motion for him to control himself, but Ravion dismissed the plea with a wave of his hand. "A Ranger can tell the difference between mercy and justice, and between justice and revenge. You want revenge. I want justice. You should hope that you have earned some cause in your life for mercy, if you come a step closer to this boy."

What was he saying? The words came pouring out of his mouth. He often got into fights this way, but most often they came in taverns. He had not touched a drop of anything but water for months. What loosened his tongue? He felt a dizziness, a thickness in his head, fogging his thoughts. He did not regret his words, but awaited the merchant's response with some trepidation.

[Imladris]

Aeron swallowed and dug at the dirt with his toe. This was not going well. How typical that something like this had to happen right after Gwyll got better...

The merchant arched his brow. "Revenge is the sordid mud upon a vile creature's shoes," he whispered softly. "However, I am not a vile creature, but a wealthy merchant." A flicker of pride sprinted across his face. "However," he growled, "I have other merchant friends who have been robbed of valuable jewelry. They say the thief is tall and lanky, and that he has a mop of brown hair. Isn't that right, Glomer?" he asked sharply, jerking his head towards a plump merchant who was staring keenly at the two children.

He nodded, the barest implication of a double chin wagging its agreement as well.

"And you, Selmer?" the merchant asked again, pointing to an abysmally thin man. Selmer sniffed and said, "I am sure the boy took my ring..." He toyed with plain ring upon his finger. "This one suffers without his crowned mate," he whispered.

Aeron winced. The Queen Ring had been a beautifully decked Sapphire that had begged to be stolen...

"As you can see," said the merchant pleasantly, "this boy -- Aeron -- has made quite a name for himself. This is not a petty case of revenge, but indeed a matter of justice. And rest assured," he whispered, "I will have it."

[littlemanpoet]

"This is not a petty case of revenge, but indeed a matter of justice. And rest assured," whispered the merchant, "I will have it."

The leader of the men at arms moved his horse one step forward at the cue from the merchant. "Remove your hands from your weapons and step back from the two who are under arrest. If you do not, it will go badly for you."

Raefindan looked to Ravion, whose eyes were already narrowed, and he seemed like a spring ready to be unsprung. Spring - unsprung. This was no time for mulling over strange words. Raefindan looked to Erundil, who gave nothing away, watching the mercenary leader with half closed eyes. He seemed balanced, ready to move forward or back, depending on the need. Raefindan looked at his own feet. They were planted firm and flat, the stance of someone unused to war and battle, and rarely caught amid altercation. Erundil should be leading them now, not he. What would Erundil do if he were in my place? Fourteen to five, one of whom was a girl, another of whom was one untrained in anything but the use of his mind. So that meant that they were really outnumbered at least three to one.

"We will stand down," Raefindan said at length.

"No!" Aeron flared on him angrily.

"But we shall track you back to Minas Tirith, and we shall bring our complaint against you to the throne if we must."

The merchant grinned. "Then we shall have to make sure that you are unable to return in time. Take their horse."

"No!" Ravion shouted, and his hand flew back to his blade. The mercenaries had their blades out in the next moment, and seven of them had started moving forward.

"Ravion!" Erundil called. "It is no great matter. They can take Gond. It will change nothing." The mercenaries stopped.

Raefindan smiled. He liked this man's determination and courage. "Ravion, please remove your hand from your sword. We don't want to give them any excuses."

Ravion removed his hand from his sword and gave Gond a slap on the rump, sending the horse, toward the mecernaries in a startle.

"Treat Gond well, or it will go ill for you later. Be assured, I will know, and I will find you."

"There is no need for threats," the mercenary leader said. "We are honorable men. We will give your horse good care. Tell me where to leave it in Minas Tirith, and I shall do that." The merchant was glowering at the mercenary leader.

Ravion had caught the merchant's look. "If you were honorable as you say, you would not allow the theft of my horse." The man looked away in discomfiture. "But you may prove that you have some honor if you make sure that this scoundrel does not sell Gond from under your noses. Take him to the White Tree Inn. They will remember me there, and they will remember Mellonin. Give them that name. Will you do that?"

"I am a paid man," said their leader, "and this merchant gives us our orders. But I will see that this horse is kept as surety rather than as property. To the White Tree Inn he goes. You have the word of Benemal of Lebennin."

The merchant's brow raised. "Mellonin? That name is new." Then his eyes widened in sudden realization. "A member of your party is missing, though you have gained a new one. What has happened to the maidenly man?"

"It is none of your business," Raefindan said. "Take your captives and leave us. The quicker we can begin our chase." He gestured to Ravion and Erundil to back away from Aeron and Gwyllion. "Never fear, my friends, we will not be far behind."

"But you will be on foot!" Aeron growled, filled with pent up fury.

"I know not, but we will find a way. Farewell!" Benemal of Lebennin, thought Raefindan. Pieces of language from his past fell into place. Bene means good while mal means bad. One may suppose that this man has a little bit of both in him. They would have to hope that the good won out over the bad.