Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[littlemanpoet]

He had not shown it to Raefindan, but Ædegard was enraged. Someone had taken Leafa hostage; an enemy of Amroth, by the looks of it. Ædegard loosened his sword in its sheath. He would kill anyone who so much as plucked a hair from her head against her will.

He overheard Amroth's words. "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."

I will not leave her unlooked for. He pulled his horse to the side of the path and let the others by. Raefindan stopped and eyed him curiously.

"You are unused to sword and bow and arrow, friend," said Ædegard. "I'll take the rearguard."

"My thanks." Raefindan's horse moved ahead. Ædegard let him go around a brambly bend, just out of sight, before he turned his horse about, seeking out the path the Elves had been talking about.

It was early afternoon and Ædegard's stomach growled. They had not stopped to eat since Amroth had urged them to their eight league gallop. And they all were overtired; except for the women, according to Raefindan, for they had been taken by this enemy swamp Elf, and made to sleep. If so, Leafa might be the harder to move, and so the easier to find. At least, he hoped so.

What are you? Oh no. He was asking himself strange questions now, so tired and hungry. I am a man of Rohan, and I seek my beloved and betrothed Leafa. Well, fine, now he was answering himself too. I will find her and make that swamp elf pay.

A half hour later, he sat astride his horse at the edge of the swamp, convinced that there was no path branching off the one he had come down. There was nothing that looked remotely like a path! But the Amroth had sounded so certain, and Elf Lords should know these kinds of things. Ædegard wished he had one of those Ranger fellows with him. Determined to find whatever passed for a swamp path, he turned his horse about, and moved slowly down the way, searching carefully from side to side.

Tharonwe

Two of his servants were with the blonde maiden, two with the brunette, and one with him as he moved farther into the swamp with the maid dressed as a man, who had a nasty cold, and was the sister of Amroth, though human. It was odd. Amroth was himself human, beyond all belief, and still he hankered for Nimrodel! He would not have her, and Tharonwe would make sure of it.

One of the eight men had turned his horse around. Tharonwe searched him out carefully. What are you?

I am a man of Rohan, and I seek my beloved and betrothed Leafa. I will find her and make that swamp elf pay. Tharonwe grinned. The man thought that he was talking to himself. So it went most often with humans. So the blonde maiden was the betrothed of this Rohirrim. Tharonwe would cloud the man's already tired mind and body, and lead him down a wending way. It would be so simple. Divide and conquer.

Raefindan

Raefindan tried to be quiet. His mounts gear rubbed and chafed and clinked. Why didn't Ædegard's mount make any noise? So quiet he was! He turned to ask Ædegard his question only to discover that he was not there. How long could it have been? He had been watching Gond's tail ahead of him, mesmerized into a kind of half wakefulness, so he was not certain. It could have been five minutes, or an hour.

"Ravion!" he called in a whisper. Ravion looked back. "Ædegard's gone! I don't know how long!"

Ravion passed the news up the line. The Elves stopped. Amroth and Herb Emblem looked very wrathful indeed. The other Elf came back down the path to Raefindan. Tate Enid, or something.

"How long has Ædegard been gone?"

"I don't know. I lost track of time. How long have we been moving on this path?"

"Nigh to an hour."

"Then he has been missing for almost an hour! Why would he do that?"

"I know not. He is no coward. A moment." Tate Enid closed his eyes and his face calmed. After a moment, he opened his eyes. "Ædegard seeks his betrothed, who was captured by our foe."

"He's in trouble alone. That Elf means business. You're an Elf. You can find him. Will you?"

Tate Enid shrugged. "I will speak with my lords and do as they bid." Tate Enid went back up the path toward Amroth and Erb Emlin.

This was not good. Just when Amroth had said to keep from being divided, Ædegard runs off. Did he think he could save his beloved, on his own? What was he thinking? He hoped Tate Enid would be sent to find him.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Nothingness.

Darkness enveloped her and squeezed tighter and tighter about her lungs. Bellyn panicked inwardly, her subconscious thoughts blazing in dreams and mindless wandering. Still her face and body remained relaxed as in sleep.

--

Her eyes fluttered open…or did they?

No…

She knew she was not awake. The scenery was too perfect for her to be awake. The grass shone magnificently with the dew of early morning, the colors of the sky and of the ground damp and dreary. Dream-Bellyn stood lonely on a cliff flanked by a thin veil of mist and a rocky ledge with a drop-off leading straight down into some churning sea. Sunlight proved sparing, and only the grey clouds gave company to the lone being on the cliff.

Dreaming? She wondered. Yes.

She could feel the warmth of a summer sun on her skin, but Bellyn did not see any sun. She could see the green grass beneath her feet, but Bellyn felt nothing holding her where she stood. It was a most awkward feeling, being there but being gone at the same time. Bellyn felt squished as if she were in a crowded tavern, but looking around she felt lonely as if she were the last person in Middle Earth. The sense of weightlessness washed over her mind; she wanted to cry for help, but no sound could escape.

The scenery changed, and suddenly Dream-Bellyn stood between two rocky ridges. The ravine was deep and dark, blackness mixed with greys and the brilliant warmth of sunlight had immediately left Bellyn. The paths on the left and right of her stretched onward into nowhere, seemingly infinite. Then a sound!

Crying? Again she wondered.

Walking off down the left path, she came to a small opening in the ravine-tunnel. Off to one side sat a woman with golden hair, pale as the early morning rays of a newborn sun. She curled up against the wall of rock with her arms around knees bent against her body. After Bellyn had watched her whimper, the woman looked up, startling Bellyn back a few steps. Her eyes burned like fading stars, stars that were once much brighter and happier.

Again the scenery changed. Dream-Bellyn sighed, wishing that someone…

Nethwador!

…wishing that someone might save her soon...

[mark12_30]

Taitheneb rode forward and spoke to Erebemlin and Amroth in a low voice. "My lords, Ædegard has ridden back along the trail."
Erebemlin's face showed nothing.
Amroth's face was also impassive, but he raised an eyebrow because Taitheneb clearly had more to say.

"The Raefindan wishes us to track and find him."

Amroth's answer was swift. "Nay! Nor shall he leave. We ride forward til we have found Bella. Taitheneb, take up the rear of the column!"

Nethwador watched Taitheneb ride to the rear with some concern, but was satisfied when the elf brought up the rear of the line. He met Amroth's eyes, and Amroth nodded at him.

"She is near, Nethwador. We will find her soon."

Nethwador frowned, unable to understand his words, and the king's mind was closed. But Amroth held his gaze til Nethwador was content. Nethwador glanced at Erebemlin next. The tall golden elf gazed at him with just a hint of warmth in his cool gaze. Nethwador watched him for a moment, and then returned his eyes to the king.

He misses Lady Bella too. He will not falter til we find both Bella and Argeleafa.

They pushed on. Amroth and Erebemlin were in the lead. Nethwador followed them, then Liornung, Erundil with Aeron riding behind him, and Ravion with Gwyllion. Raefindan and Taitheneb brought up the rear. The horses were exhausted, and all three elves were asking their mounts for their last remaining strength. The men could not ask, but the horses gave it nonetheless.

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan

"We must stay together." Taitheneb's words were straightforward and simple. Raefindan appreciated that. Ædegard had taken his fate into his own hands, then. It was critical that those who remained together, stay that way. Very well. Raefindan would not stray from the purpose of the group. If he had been the leader, he would have said the same thing. He sighed.

Nevertheless, he could not set aside the feeling that something ought to be done. But how? Jorje nosed ahead of his horse among the bushes. What if he sent Jorje back? No, what could that do? Get Jorje lost. The dog was looking up at him. Raefindan smiled.

"Did you know that I was thinking of you?" he whispered. Jorje's tail wagged and his mouth opened in a big grin. He whispered again. "Would you go look for Ædegard if I asked you to?"

I would permit it.

Raefindan shook his head. Had Jorje put those words into his mind? No, that didn't make sense. He looked behind him and saw Tate Enid regarding him with look of amusement. That was you? He mouthed, pointing to his head, feeling idiotic. Tate Enid nodded.

Taitheneb.

Taitheneb. Ah. Apologies.

Accepted. The Elf smiled.

Raefindan smiled and turned frontwards again. Jorje was pacing by the side of his mount. "Jorje!" he whispered as loud as he dared. "Go find Ædegard!"

Jorje watched him as he paced next to him, seemingly spellbound. And not understanding what in Middle Earth Raefindan was talking about.

Try saying, "Tirril! Find Ædegard!"

Tirril? Jorje had stopped in his tracks and was watching Taitheneb with singular attention. Tirril. So the dog had two names. Jorje Tirril. He could pass for an Englishman. A what?

What is this Englishman?

I don't know. Something where I come from?

Tirril awaits your command.

Raefindan nodded. "Tirril! Find Ædegard!"

Jorje watched him for one second longer, then ran back down the trail as fast as though a juicy steak had been thrown that way. In moments he was out of sight.

Jorje Tirril

Red man used one of the words old Bargil had taught him! Find. But he didn't use it right. It didn't hold the aroo. He liked Red man's word that meant him, it was warm and friendly, but not aroo. The El man was different, hot and cold in the same place at once. He knew hot and cold nearby, when he put his nose to the riches that wafted, but this El man was nose and riches at once.

Tirril

The aroo! The El man knew aroo!

"Tirril! Find Ædegard!" said Red man.

Aroo! Tirril remembered the smell of the new man. Must find new man! The scent was not here, but Tirril knew it. It was back many pawprints. He would find new man. Tirril ran.

[Imladris]

Aeron glared at Raefindan and shook his head. Nobility....Raefindan spoke of it and had none of it. Ædegard had the nobility though, Aeron suspected, since he had gone after his beloved against all odds.

Aeron nodded. But no, Raefindan and the others (and it was a disappointment that this was coming from elves) considered him as a deserter...how was he a deserter? They were more concerned about sticking together instead of trying to rescue both women. Why? Wasn't that what nobility was? Dying for those you love?

Aeron shook his head.

[mark12_30]

Dead faces leered at her, rotting hands reached for her. Tentacles brushed her. Foul breath wafted against her face. Her stomach turned.

It was hard to breathe. So often it was hard to breathe... she gasped, coughing, fighting for air. Something struck her. She turned her face, gasping; still there was no air. Dead faces under the water wafted rotting, trailing flesh, and it stank; she gagged again and again.

Enough. Enough! She fought harder, scratching, kicking. The air still eluded her. Fog surrounded her; walls hemmed her in; a dungeon door closed, and she was underground, underwater, under the sucking mud. There was no air.

There was no air.

Her surroundings faded slowly 'til she knew no more.

[littlemanpoet]

Tharonwe

Taitheneb. Tharonwe had not heard of that Elf. He must be a young shoot out of Lorien, less than a thousand years, likely. The human boy, Ædegard, was a fish caught on his line, and the best they would do was send a dog to find him and bring him back. Tharonwe was best with sight and hearing and thought, not smell; but his servants had excellent noses. He commanded them to draw both human and dog away.

But that was apparently all the dividing of their forces that could be achieved. Tharonwe could not detect any threats laid down by Amroth and the other one, so it must be that they were followed by cowards whose fears overcame loyalty. At least this Ædegard was no coward. A Rohirrim. It would be a good death, so those folk said. It would be a shame that none of his folk would know of his fate; no song would be sung for his heroic death, just a mournful lament for his loss. Fair and well. It was time to call the servants holding the other two women back to him. Divide and conquer had been played out; now it was time for strength in numbers. He made his call.

Jorje Tirril

His paws ate up the trail as he nosed for signs of Ædegard's big one-toe dog. Jorje was used to them, his old waroo had had his very own, as had the rest of the pack. When waroo's days of smelling had come to an end, waroo's one toe dog had been given to a new pack member, and Tirril - for that had been his name then - had been claimed by the strange new waroo of the two legs. But the new waroo was mean. Tirril had run away, had scrounged for himself until red man. Red man was a good waroo, except that Tirril's name from red man had not been aroo. Jorje. He had tried to make it become aroo, but it was not second smell yet. Now it didn't need to anymore; red man now knew aroo, and Tirril was happy.

There was the one toe's scent. Tirril slowed and made sure to keep the scent. It kept to the main path. Woof! No! Tirril stopped. The scent was warmest just off to the side. Yes, there was another path this way. Not as well used. But Ædegard's one toe had gone this way. Tirril ran.

Tirril halted. A new scent. Human female and something else. The something else made him retch. It was foul, not rich like dung. This foulness was of a different kind of rot. But it was growing faint. Tirril ran on. Many paws later, Tirril saw Ædegard's one toe dog ahead, long before he smelled him. This swamp was so thick with odors that an animal scent was dampened. No two leg though. Tirril sniffed around. The one toe looked at Tirril and he snuffled and knickered. Tirril had heard his old two leg pack call it that. One toe was scared, had smelled and heard the foul things too. They sniffed noses. Stay together, Tirril snuffled.

The one toe followed Tirril as he ran down the path, nose to the mucky ground, hard after the scent of Ædegard. It was not right that Ædegard left his one toe behind. And it was not right that the man had passed by the female human smell, for Tirril knew hunting; Ædegard was hunting for the female human, and had lost the scent, which meant that Ædegard was lost. Tirril would have to find him. The big eye in the sky was only a few sniffs above the edge of the world. They ran on.