Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

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Father answered the door. Erebemlin's frame filled the door as he gave Father the King's message; the elf then bowed and said, "We will wait for you below." He bowed his head and departed.

When the door closed, Mellondu snorted. "Me. Me! Summoned to the presence of the King? Will that elf stop at nothing? Did I not agree to go with him on his mad quest? Why drag me to the citadel? Why involve the King? Does not the elf trust my word? Confound him! He has more regard for his horse than for a man!"

Mellonin paused at the door, hefting her bag to her shoulder. "I would sooner see the King, than Morien. You are lucky. Perhaps the Queen will be with him." Then she smiled. "For that, perhaps the Lady Estelyn will be at the Inn." She cheered visibly.

Mellondu growled, and paced like a wolf.

"Courage, son, " said Father.

Mellondu halted by the bedroom door, writhing within.

Mother paced softly to his side, and placed her hand on his arm. "You will find no rulers kinder than our King and Queen. Go with joy, son. Go with hope."

"He goes not alone, " replied Father, "for he was not summoned alone. The elf bid me come also."

Mellondu started and his face went white. Mellonin glanced at Mother, and nodded first at Mother, then at Father. Then she nodded at Mellondu. "Stop by the Inn afterwards, and tell me all! May the Valar shine on you." Just after the words left her mouth, she wondered if she had been wise to mention the Valar. Glancing again at her brother's fury, she turned and quickly departed.

Mellondu muttered through clenched teeth at the Valar. Father, straightening his tunic, said "Come. It will not do to keep the King waiting." He stretched his arm towards the door, and let his son lead the way.

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Outside their apartment, down the stairs, and into the street, they found Erebemlin and Taitheneb waiting a stone's throw from the building. Erebemlin looked impassive as usual; Taitheneb nodded a greeting to Father and to Mellondu. Father bowed his head to each elf, and they turned to walk up the street. Occasionally they caught sight of Mellonin until she turned aside at the door to The Seventh Star, with a wave and a smile.

As the four continued, winding their way up the city in midday, curious eyes followed them-- old man, young man, tall impassive elf, younger friendly elf.

Father tried to make some small conversation with the elves, learning from Taitheneb that many elves had sailed, and Lothlorien was growing quiet and sad. After that Taitheneb fell silent; but Mellondu suddenly turned to Erebemlin and spoke.

"Why involve the King in this? And why could I not be trusted to speak for myself? Did I not agree to join your quest? Did I not agree to serve you until you deem that my life debt is paid? Why did you do this?"

Erebemlin shook his head. "I did nothing. This desire came from the King, and not from me."

Mellondu halted, his jaw working. Such a thought had not crossed his mind.

"The King wants to see me?"

"Nay," said Erebemlin, "the King wants to see Amroth. Whether he gets his wish is yet to be seen."

The anger on Mellondu's face drained away, replaced by weary ire. "I see, " he said, but the edge had left his voice. Father's face was like flint. Erebemlin marched steadily along. Taitheneb's face was turned away. A few paces later, Father asked the elves some question about archery, but after that the group fell silent. It seemed to Mellondu that only moments passed before they were at the doors to the great hall.

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Word came to the prisons of Minas Tirith that a new captive was approaching.
The event, in and of itself, was not surprising. The small cells were
often full with those who chose to break the peaceful laws of the city.
Those individuals were usually petty thieves or drunken brawlers who were
held until sober. What had piqued the interest of Iorgil, the young
watchman whose duty it was to guard the prison cells this day, was that the
messages told that an elf was being brought to the prisons. The young man
had seen the immortal folk from a distance and had been in the presence of
the Queen, on a rare occasion, but he felt a mixture of anxiety and
curiosity about being so close to one. And what could an elf possibly do to
earn himself lodging in the White City’s prisons? That is what perplexed
Iorgil more than anything else did. Were not elves virtuous and upright?

Footsteps could be heard in the corridor and the young guard rose from his
seat to watch the cell door open. The dark-haired elf slowly entered and
then the door shut with a loud clank. Iorgil’s eyes widened when he saw the
noble being. For that was how the elf appeared to the young man…noble. He
was tall with slender, regal features and smooth, white skin. Iorgil
stepped slowly down the hall toward the cell to obtain a better look. He
could only see the back of the elven figure as the elf was surveying his new
surroundings, bending and looking beneath the bedding. The elf stood and
turned toward the cell door and the young guard caught his breath. The
elf’s perfectly formed lips were curled up in disgust and nostrils were
flared. Iorgil watched the shining eyes before him flash when they landed
on him and a sickly sweet smile form across the fair elven face.
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