Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[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.

[Imladris]

A cold avalanch of anger tumbled in Aeron's stomach. Raefindan had let them go. Raefindan had said, with a nice big smile, that he didn't care what the merchants did to them. If he had cared he wouldn't have handed them over without a fight. What happened to friends sticking together? WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THIS NOBLENESS THEY WERE ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT? It all disappeared when there was a fight afoot.

Aeron ran his fingers through his hair and considered making a run for it. He glanced at Gwyllion, at her pale pointed face as she backed slowly away from the merchants. How could Raefindan consign her to a cold dank prison? He scowled at her and then flicked his face towards the merchants. She frowned in confusion, and then nodded as understanding lit upon her face.

Aeron shot a dirty look at Raefindan. He had expected Ravion to have pulled a stunt like this, not Raefindan. Raefindan...how could he? How could he have agreed with what Ravion said of nobility and then do this? He could feel the anger lick his insides like an angry flame as his hand balled in a fist.

As one of the mercenaries neared, Aeron shouted something that he would assuredly not have said if he was in a more favourable mood towards Raefindan, and barreled into the mercenary, knocking him to the ground. Catching his balance, Aeron spared a look towards Gwyllion who was sprinting across the landscape.

Without a backwards glance, he sped after her, until he was running neck and neck besider her. He could feel the hoofprints pound dully behind him, yet he was not expecting the weight that bore him into Gwyllion, thus making them both tumble to the ground.

Gwyllion shrieked, raking at the soldiers with her nails, flailing wildly as the men tried to bind her hands with thongs. Her shrieks turned into screams of terror, as blood began to ooze from the soldier's cheek.

Aeron wriggled from one of the mercenaries, and leaped to the back of the men binding Gwyllion, locking his throat in a strangle hold. "LET US GO!" he heard her shriek. "LET US GO!"

He could feel hands pry him from the back of the shoulder, hands tackling him to the ground. He struggled, but they pushed him onto his stomach, prying his arms until they nearly came from their sockets. Tight leather bound his wrists together.

He was jerked to his feet and dragged to one of the horses.

Ravion, Raefindan, and the other ranger had just stood there.

"HOW COULD YOU!" he screamed, still struggling. "HOW DARE YOU!" He wanted to hit Raefindan, hurt him. Why...Aeron had tried to tell them that they could fight, yet they had done nothing. They had just stood there, complacently watching them being led away to their dooms. He snorted. Did they think that the king would care about a thief? Did he think that the courts would plead them innocent when they would be swayed by the jingling purses of the merchant?

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan looked on sadly as Aeron and Gwyllion did what he too would have done in their place. Aeron did not understand. It would be a fight to the death, and no one's death was worth a courageous last stand, not for the sake of honor, freedom, nothing short of their very lives. Maybe that was wrong thinking, it occurred to Raefindan, but he had never found himself in such a spot before, and as sure as he was of what he valued, he wondered if he was really doing the right thing. He knew that he had to believe that there would be a way, short of foolhardy death. He turned to Ravion and Enduril.

"You two follow them to Minas Tirith. Get Gond back, of course, and make sure that they are treated with all the mercy and decency that captivity allows."

"What will you do?" Ravion frowned.

"I will stay here in hopes that Mellonin will be returned to us."

"I will stay with you," Ravion said. "Erundil can go to Minas Tirith and recover Gond. He can do better than I in speaking for Aeron and Gwyllion."

"I think not. He hardly knows them. They need someone who knows them."

"Then you go to Minas Tirith!"

"I am no Ranger to track them."

"You and Erundil!"

Raefindan put his hand to his chin, not sure which way to decide. Maybe Ravion should stay instead of himself. Maybe Erundil could go back to Minas Tirith alone. After all, he had not agreed to this quest of Mellonin's; Raefindan and Ravion had.

"Okay then, Ravion, you and I will stay here, and Erundil will go to Minas Tirith." Raefindan turned to the other Ranger. "Is that acceptable to you?"

Raefindan followed Erundil's eyes toward the mercenaries and merchants, who had Aeron and Gwyllion well in hand now, and were hoisting them onto horses in front of one mercenary each. Aeron looked back at Raefindan in rage.

I'm sorry, Aeron. I wish there was a better way. He kept his mouth closed and did not look away from the boy, but allowed his face to show his sorrow.

"I will follow them," Erundil said. "Maybe they think that justice is being done here, and maybe it is after a fashion, but all is not right here. I will do my best to set things aright. You have my word on that."

"My thanks, Erundil," said Raefindan as he watched the mercenaries and their captives begin to walk away back south.

[mark12_30]

They crested a low hill, and halted; their minds had been tightly closed per Amroth's orders, and they did not expect to see the party of fourteen on the horizon. The elves held up one hand each.

"Seventeen men, my lord, " whispered Taitheneb, his mind still shut tight. The men and ladies pressed their horses closer to hear the elves' whispers.

Amroth's lips tightened; he squinted and stared, but to no avail. He glanced at Erebemlin, who shook his head. "Twelve armed men, four unarmed, and one girl; sixteen horses, " whispered the taller elf, an edge of reproach in his voice. Taitheneb aquiesced.

"And there, " pointed Erebemlin, "Three more men. Two stand still, the third begins to follow the riders."

Taitheneb nodded again, chagrined that he had missed the three men on foot.

"One of them, " continued Erebemlin, "has chestnut hair."

"Chestnut hair!" said Amroth.

Erebemlin nodded. "Yes, my lord. Glossy and red."

"Does he grieve?"

Erebemlin, somewhat taken aback, turned to study the distant figures. "His back is to me. He turns... His face is sad."

Amroth's eyes blazed. "He is bereft. I know this man. Take me to him quickly!"

"My lord?" Erebemlin asked even as he turned his mount to obey. Minds still closed tight, the three elves surged forward. The exhausted band followed as best they could. When Bella and Argeleafa's horses lagged, Liornung and Ædegard kept an eye on them. The three elves and Nethwador arrived at the two walkers first. In the distance, the third man hesitated, staring back over his shoulder.

Amroth rode straight to the redhaired man. "I grieve with you, friend. Your loss is deep."

The redhaired man tore his gaze from the elves. "I beg your pardon?"

"I share your grief!"

The other, brownhaired man glanced at the elves, and nodded. "Yes, our loss is deep. Can you aid us?"

Erebemlin looked at Amroth. "What loss do you speak of, my lord?"

"Yes; which one?" asked the redhaired man. "There've been a few, if you don't mind my saying so."

Ædegard and Liornung came into sight, and behind them Bella and Argeleafa.

The brownhaired man looked up at Amroth, and said, "If not for your air-- you look like..."

Amroth ignored him and spoke to the redhaired man. "You search for the one you love. She has vanished into the wild, and you know not where. And your heart finds no rest without her."

The two men nodded, but the brownhaired man spoke again. "You look much like her."

Amroth ignored him again. "The love you seek-- her fate is woven with mine, is it not?"

"Excuse me?" replied the redhaired man. "Perhaps you might give me a name?"

Amroth dismounted and walked towards the red haired man.

The redhaired man said, "You look like Mellonin."

The sister of Mellondu! thought Amroth.

A sharp cry from the brownhaired man brought them all up short. "It must be he! We have found him-- and lost her!" Amroth found himself face to face with the brownhaired man.

"Ravion, " said the redhaired man, "Wait. Let him speak--"

"They are as like as twins! It cannot be otherwise! The quest is ended, yet to whom do we give the prize?" said Ravion, with a mix of woe and fury taking Amroth's shoulder. "O Raefindan, I am a fool!"

"Unhand him!" cried Erebemlin, wrenching Ravion away from Amroth. Ravion was too anguished to care, and turned to Erebemlin with such a look of woe he won Taitheneb's pity.

Amroth nodded. Raefindan-- Red-Haired Man.

Ravion looked up at Ædegard, Argeleafa, and Liornung. "Mellondu rides with Rohirrim, and comes back home. Had we but waited! And now she is captive!"

So he knows my young blacksmith friend Mellondu. Well enough. But he was not in my dream. Amroth turned to Raefindan. "Captive?"

He nodded. "Alas, yes. And so are our beloved thieves."

Amroth's brow knit. "Thieves? That is no loss."

"They were bound to me, " replied Ravion, "and we failed them."

Amroth met his gaze.

"I failed them, " said Ravion.

"The point is, " said Raefindan, "that they were part of us, and bound to us, and now are lost to us; they were taken from us against our will."

Amroth's eyes hardened. "Then they will be restored to you."

Ædegard looked at the troop on the horizon. "Six of us against twelve armed men?"

Taitheneb spoke. "Five men and three elves, against fifteen men."

Bella and Argeleafa exchanged glances; what would they do in a fight?

"Three elves?" asked Ravion. "I see two elves and four men..."

"They're getting further away as we speak, " replied Liornung.

Amroth turned to the ladies. "Your horses. These two men need mounts. We will return to you quickly." Taitheneb and Erebemlin swiftly loosened swords and strung bows even as Argeleafa slipped off of her horse. Bella hesitated. "Hurry, " Argeleafa said. Bella slid off.

Wide-eyed, Raefindan strung his bow, and muttered under his breath; Ravion had given him six arrows; that meant Ravion was short. Raefindan loosened his dagger. Even as he realized he did not know what to do in battle with a horse or without one, Bella was handing him the reins.

The two ladies stood alone on the plains as the eight riders thundered southwest.