Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[Imladris]

Gwyllion closed her eyes and leaned against Ravion. At the very last she had felt a golden strength come to her mind, a comfort that whispered to her not to be afraid. Even when the cruel blood had flowed from her gash it had not faltered, but had sought to comfort her. She wondered if Aeron had felt the same thing.

It was then that she realized that she was in the presence of evles -- elves! She glanced askantly at them. They were so beautiful...and noble. How had they come among them, simple thieves as themselves?

[Orual]

Ravion rode gently for Gwyllion, keeping a firm rein on Gond, though he knew that his horse would sense the need for gentleness. The girl, while seeming relaxed, stared around herself at the Elves that the company had fallen in with. She was leaning against him, supremely trusting and confident, and Ravion could not sense any trace of fear in her--her run-in with the merchants was not forgotten, surely, but recovered from. She was, perhaps, in awe of the Elves, but she was certainly not frightened.

He felt her sigh deeply, her shoulders rising and falling slowly. He smiled a little, though the ache that still gripped his heart seemed to keep his lips from moving too far. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Quite better!" Gwyllion replied, sounding remarkably chipper. "Do you know, I only cried a little bit when I got cut?"

Ravion's smile grew a tiny bit. "I noticed that." He sounded light, but truly, he was quite relieved by Gwyllion's relatively mild reaction. It showed growth, and it showed that she was becoming accustomed to the sort of lifestyle she would be leading.

He saw her watching the Elves, her eyes, keener than one might think, scanning them deeply. Ravion looked at those eyes, and fancied that she could see right through them, her penetrating gaze rooting out even the deepest secrets of the Elves. He nudged Gond on a bit, staring squarely ahead of himself, but not really seeing the ground. He would leave the observation to Gwyllion.

[littlemanpoet]

As he rode along with the rest of the party back toward the swamp, Raefindan was having difficulty keeping all the new names straight. The Elvish names were especially difficult. Herb Emblem? No, that was too like a name from his past. Ted Enid? Same problem. He would have to pay more attention the next time their names were used. In fact, all the names here were strange. Nether Door? Sounded more like a place than a name. Leonard? Ardis Leafa? That one actually sounded nice. Bella. Now, there was a name he could understand! And then this other one, Addle Guard? What kind of name was that? He must have it wrong. For that matter, the names of his own friends were unusual. Shouldn't Mellonin by Melanie? Gwyllion ought to be Gwendolyn, shouldn't it? Aeron should be Aaron, and Erundil would serve better as a, well, another Aaron, but with Dill on the end. Such strange names. What a pickle.

He found himself riding next to one of the young men from the Elves' group. His hair was dark blonde and long, and braided in the fashion of some northern people from his own memory's history.

"You are from Rohan?" he asked the other.

"Aye. Edoras. We have traveled from there to Lorien, then through the swamp along the Anduin, then here." He extended his right hand across his body toward Raefindan. "I am Ædegard. I did not catch your name well, friend."

Raefindan shook Ædegard's hand, and he spoke his name again; then his eyes flew open with sudden recognition. "Edgar!"

Ædegard shook his head. "I do not understand."

"Your name would be Edgar where I come from."

Ædegard's brow rose briefly. "Your name sounds like the Elvish."

"That it is, and is not my true name. I do not know my true name. I have lost my memory. The first thing I can remember clearly is standing before the gates of Minas Tirith, some few weeks ago. There I met Mellonin in the city, serving as an innkeeper's helpmaid."

"And I met Mellon in Edoras; though now I have learned that his name is Mellondu. Such a strange business! But you said that my name is known to you, after a fashion. Maybe you are from the north."

"Yes, I am from the north of where I come from, but it is a different place than this."

"It must be far distant, then. There are red headed men among the Rohirrim, but they are rare, usually in the west, near Dunland."

"I am not from there."

Herb Emblem gestured for them to be quiet, for they were entering the swamp, following the trail of those who had taken the women.

For that matter, thought Raefindan, what of the name they've given me? Ray would be a shorter, easier handle. Suddenly, a lightning bolt of memory struck him. Not Ray, but Roy. That's my name: Roy. No wonder Raefindan felt so comfortable, as close as it is. Edwards! Ædegard would recognize it if I changed it just a little, to Ædewards. A second lightning bolt of realization hit him. Ædegard and I are of the same folk! But our speech is different. His is older. How do I know that? He saw himself in a large room, sitting at a chair with a single board at his right, which was attached to the chair. There was a lined sheet of paper on it, and he held a pen over it. I learned it in school!

His horse's hoof sunk into the mire up above its knees, and whinnied desperately. He tugged on the reins and the horse's head yanked to the right, the horse's feet followed, back to the narrow path.

"Raefindan!" Herb Emblem hissed angrily. "Watch the path!"

He nodded. "Sorry!"

[mark12_30]

***OOC: this goes after A&G's rescue and before the discovery that Argeleafa & Bella are taken.**

Erundil had been pursuing them on foot, and was now breathless and exhasperated. As they galloped up to him, Erundil called to Ravion. Ravion swerved, and stopped. "Take this horse! I will ride Gond." He leaped off Argeleafa's horse and handed the reins to Erundil, and swung towards Gond.

"You could have invited me to the party, " Erundil snorted.

"Not enough horses, " grinned Ravion. Erundil tried to cuff him but could not reach. They mounted hastily and galloped to catch the rest.

*************


Nethwador stared at the redhaired man a little, and at the darkhaired man a lot. Despite himself, he resented the order that Bella give up her horse to the redhaired man, who clearly did not know how to ride very well. And he wondered whether the darkhaired man knew Bella. They might be from the same tribe, he thought. Would the darkhaired man capture Bella's attention? Her affection?

Time enough to worry about that when she was found. His heart sank. How often would he have to choose between his loyalty to Amroth, and his love for her?

Teeth set and face clouded, he rode unnoticed behind Amroth, casting glances back towards the darkhaired man. Ravion rode with eyes straight ahead, and did not notice.


*****

Soft words passed between the two elves, heard only by their quick elf-ears.

"The trail holds fewer footprints than it did. We have lost some of them."

"I feared as much. Amroth does not know?"

"His mind is closed; ask him."

Taitheneb slowed, and spoke clearly. "My lord, the footprints are not as many as they were."

Amroth nodded. "Argeleafa is not with them. I have felt this. She is behind us."

"My lord, shall we split up?"

"No! That is his desire. We have split up too much already, and our two ladies are lost. We shall not be divided again. We shall find Bella, and return for Argeleafa. She will not be far from the one who defies me."

Taitheneb and Erebemlin exchanged glances. "Who is it, that defies you, my lord?"

"He mocked me aboard ship-- mocked me and mocked my grief. He tries to hide from me, from us all. But betimes the outreach of his anger gives him away. The darkness of his heart spills beyond his grasp."