Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[littlemanpoet]

"You see, Raefindan," said Maegeleb, who still walked ahead of him, "it is not so with Elves as with Men. We do not need the - what is your word? Ah, yes - mechanisms that you need. Once we know how something is done, we can achieve it by the power of our will, especially that which has to do with thought."

"Aren't we special."

"Roy Edwards, I am disappointed. Where is your nobility? Where your sunny disposition, as you call it?"

"I am your slave. They are the only things that could escape to freedom."

"You are not yet my utter slave. But that shall be rectified. Now." Maegeleb turned and faced him. Roy felt his mind invaded. Then nothing.

"You are asleep. Open your eyes. Good. Tell me your name."

"Roy Edwards."

"Where are you from?"

"Erie, Pennsylvania."

"What year is it?"

"Two thousand four."

"Do you know where you are?"

"No. Yes."

"Tell me where you are."

"I am in Anorien of Gondor."

"How did you get here?"

"I don't know."

"Walk in a circle around me." Maegeleb watched as the redheaded man did as he was told. This is good. Very good. Men will be easily turned. Elves, not so. But so many Men against two or three Elves? Maegeleb smiled. And Nimrodel herself? She and her serving maid can be made to believe whatever I wish. His smile widened and his eyes burned with a feral brightness.

[mark12_30]

As they made camp, Ædegard explained much regarding horses and their habits to Mellondu. Ravion cared for Gond, chatting with Erundil, and occasionally speaking with Aeron. Meanwhile Mellonin was left alone with her thoughts, which did not make her happy.

The pair that caught her attention was the Wayfarer lad and the Gondorian lass. Why the Gondorian lass walked with the Rohirrim she did not know, and what interest she found in the young wayfarer puzzled her. She watched them for a while. As they cared for their horses, Bella saw Mellonin staring. Bella smiled, and Mellonin smiled in return.

They joined her when their horses were settled. Mellonin studied the Wayfarer lad, puzzled by his easterling features and his elvish dress. Bella spoke. "You have met Nethwador."

Mellonin nodded. "Hello."

"Mae... Gonvannen?" he replied.

"Sindarin. Very nice. I did not know the Wayfarers spoke our tongue."

"Nay, but the elves have taught him a little, " Bella answered. "Nethwador was taught by the plains and the wild, else."

"I thought the Wayfarers were a tribe, " Mellonin frowned.

"Amroth said he found Nethwador quite alone, but for his horse, " Bella answered.

Mellonin studied Bella next. "I have heard others mention Amroth, but Mellondu will not speak of him, " Mellonin said.

"Oh, if only Mellondu would welcome Amroth back. I do not know what will become of him now, " Bella said.

"Where did he go?" Mellonin asked, puzzled. "Did my brother send him away?"

"Mellon Amroth!" said Nethwador.

"Your pardon?" Mellonin wondered.

"Yes, I am afraid that he did, " Bella replied. "I think your brother was quite angry with Amroth, for your sake. I am not sure that I understand why."

"Wasn't all that talk about the mad blacksmith related to Amroth? But my brother is not mad, as you see; he was merely lost. What did it all mean?"

"Perhaps, " said Bella, "you should sit down."

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Mellonin brushed snow from a log and took her seat there. Bellyn sat next to the young lady, and Nethwador stood by, watching.

“You asked what it all meant,” Bellyn reminded Mellonin. When she nodded, Bellyn sighed and glanced over her shoulder at Mellondu-Amroth. “Maybe I am not the best person to ask, because it still confuses me some as well.”

Mellonin said naught, but followed Bellyn’s gaze to where her brother spoke with Ædegard. Bellyn recognized the look in Mellonin’s eyes. She knew of the worry and doubt. Bellyn hated how often she had felt helpless since leaving home – she felt a lonely onlooker who could no sooner help her friends than help herself.

“I could tell you all I know, though,” Bellyn said, hoping to relieve Mellonin from some of the invisible weight on her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Mellonin murmured softly, turning back to look blankly at Nethwador as she waited for Bellyn to speak once more.

“When I left home, it was with Liornung, and indeed to search for some mad blacksmith,” Bellyn started, sifting through her memories to decide which would be most important to Mellonin. Still unsure, Bellyn ran a finger through the layer of powdery snow on the ground. “On the way we met Ædegard, and we quickly found the mad blacksmith. The one you call Mellondu – the one who is your brother. He called himself Amroth when we first met him.” Bellyn paused, trying to figure where she should continue.

“I do not understand,” Mellonin cut in.

“Amroth…Mellondu…they are the same, I think,” Bellyn tried to keep her voice calm for Mellonin’s widening eyes. “One and the same, and yet not so. Amroth seeks his betrothed; Amroth seeks Nimrodel. Mellondu…I know not why he has returned.”

“Returned?” Mellonin questioned.

“I think Mellondu searched for you,” Bellyn answered. “Then his quest became Amroth’s. He came back when we were taken – taken by those things, those merlocks. I know not why he pushed away the mind of Amroth.”

“What are you trying to say?” Mellonin asked again.

“Mellon Amroth!” Nethwador repeated.

“Your brother was never crazy or mad,” Bellyn murmured. “But he was lost. He was lost to Amroth – lost to the strength of Amroth. I know not when Amroth will return. Now that your brother is found, it is Amroth who is lost, I think.”

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung was smiling as he absently listened to Bella's tale. He knew it already, but he enjoyed to here her sweet young voice relating what had happened, and how. Her tones were mostly indifferent, as if she had not experienced all that she was telling, but when she spoke of the merlocks there was the slightest little catch in her voice, and he saw that that memory was still near to her.

Yes, he listened to her, but not keenly. His attentions were fixed mostly upon Nethwador. He was watching the young wayfarer boy, and trying to pretend he wasn't. What devotion the silent boy had for that slim young girl perched upon the log. He looked at her adoringly, longingly. Would he be made happy? Would he gain the desire of his heart that only Bella could give him... Bella herself?

"You tell the tale well, sweet Bella," said Liornung, when she had finished. "It is always a welcome thing when I can sit and listen, rather than speak myself. It's a rare day when it comes."

"I fear I haven't explained clearly enough," said Bella.

"You explained it better than I could," said Liornung, "and the thing itself is so wondrous that even a master of tales could not make it wholly clear." He smiled, first at Bellyn, and then at Mellonin. "It does my old eyes good to see you two fair maids sitting together. You, Bella, have been caught up between the Rohirric and the wayfarers, and it has been a long while since you have seen one of your own kind."

"I did not mind it," said Bella. "What did it matter to me if you were Rohirric? You have been as good and loyal to me as any of my own kind."

"Maybe so," said Liornung, colouring under her kind words, "but you cannot say it is not sweet for you to meet another from Gondor. And I, Miss Mellonin, am pleased to meet another. I have learned from sweet Bella more than I have from others in all my travellings, that Gondorians are fair and kind. I have no doubt of finding you so also, and, ah! but it is a fine thing to see our company growing greater... I hope we shall also grow greater in friendship."

He spoke slightly absently, for he was again thinking of Nethwador, and this time with a face lacking in some worry. Bellyn did not seem to mind that the members of the company Rohirric, Gondorian, wayfarer, or Elf... perhaps there was some larger hope for Nethwador than it had previously seemed.

[mark12_30]

Liornung's gaze rested often on the easterling in elvish garb, and Mellonin watched with interest. But she was the more confused, as he kept insisting "Mellon Amroth."

"What do you mean by that? Do you mean that my brother is Amroth, or that Amroth is Mellon?" she asked.

"Nethwador mellon Amroth."

Mellonin only looked more confused, and Bella spoke. "His Sindarin is lacking, but his friendship with Amroth was not. He speaks of his own heart."

"You knew him?" asked Mellonin.

"We all did. But please, " said Bella, "let us not continue to speak of him as if he were dead!"

[littlemanpoet]

The sun had set hours ago. The fire crackled and flamed brightly. The stars watched them from high above, giving little guidance.

Ædegard sat beside Leafa, and she beside Liornung. Between betrothed and father she sits. He knew that Liornung was not her real father, of course, but it seemed that she always looked to Liornung for safety and protection. What did she look for from him? Hope of a future? Such a thing was not to be. He knew all over again that he could not keep her, could not provide for her. His oath had stripped away all misty dreams and brought home the stark reality. Handless, he was worth nothing, except to take vengeance for them all on the swamp elf. He reached for Leafa's left hand with his good one. Her hand was cold. He would have chafed some warmth back into it, but how could he?

"Leafa, I ...." Now that it was there to say, he found that he could not bring himself to it. Be a man! "Without two hands I cannot be a wheelwright. 'Tis what I learned to do. Once this quest is over, I will have to go beggaring until I can learn a new trade."

She watched him with wide open eyes, uncertainty growing on her face. She said nothing.

"I would not trammel you with a cripple, dear Leafa. I should not take you to wife."

Hurt came to her face straightway; then suspicion. "Is this because of your oath?"

He shook his head. "No. I have thought this way ever since I lost my hand, though I began to hope vainly while we were in the house of Marigold. I swore my oath because it seemed needful and right. Since then I have seen my situation more clearly, and have come back around to my first, true thought. I can never be the husband you need."

She frowned and became cross. "Because you miss a hand?"

At that moment, Taitheneb and Erebemlin rose as one, looking off to the south. "Who goes there?" they cried together.

From the distance Ædegard heard a voice cry, "It is I, Maegeleb! I bring Raefindan with me! I come in peace, to give myself into your hands."

The Elves stared at each other for a brief moment, then each took bow in hand and nocked an arrow.

"I see you!" Erebemlin yelled. "Stop there and let the red haired man come to us. You will come when I say you may."

Ædegard's heart thudded and his hand went to the sword hilt at his side. The time for vengeance was upon him.

[Nurumaiel]

Argeleafa heard the cry of the Elf, and she saw Ædegard's hand move to the hilt of his sword. Her heart leapt in fear, and she made a gesture as if to catch his arm... and then she stopped. He would disregard her pleas to discard his foolish oath for revenge, and merely cause distraction. And... he would not marry her. Tears rose to her eyes, and her heart ached and pounded with the volley of emotions that assailed her. He would not marry her. But why did it matter? He would die soon, seeking for his revenge. Yet she would have rathered he die as her betrothed. She could remember that they had promised to one day be wed. Now she would only recall that, a few fleeting moments before his death, he had told her he would not marry her.

He would not marry her.

How could it be? She repeated it again, and again, and yet again, but she could not understand it. Her eyes fixed upon his face. So strong, so handsome... and, at one time, so full of love for her. Did he love her still? But what did it matter? He would not marry her. She recalled the first wild thrill of her heart when she knew she loved him, and the deeper thrill when he knelt before her and asked her to one day wed him. Since then she had dreamed of such happiness, of a future spent with him, until she died, died happy as his wife.

She stood and withdrew from the circle about the fire, barely conscious that the men had grown tense and prepared for battle. Ædegard did not notice that she was no longer at his side. And if he had, no doubt he thought it was because she was retreating to a safe place with the other women. Retreat? It was her only thought. She must retreat from this nightmare, wherein Ædegard sat, ready to fulfill his oath. Not Ædegard her betrothed, but simply Ædegard.

She turned and slipped into the shadows. She did not care where she went, as long as she could run away, flee from this night that was torturing her, and ease the dull pain in her heart for just a little while.