Friends Of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams, Part 2 RPG

[Formendacil]

Bergil frowned as Aeron asked if he knew where Indil's family lived.

"No," he said slowly. "I do not. That they are from somewhere in Lossarnach, I am fairly certain, but many dwell in Lossarnach, and there were no villages or farmsteads close enough to where I found her to make a guess. If I had weeks at my disposal, and took Indil through the entire province, perhaps she might recognise something, or be recognised herself, but otherwise I fear not."

"What of joining us, then?" pressed Aeron. Bergil shook his head slowly, a gesture more made of uncertainty than rejection.

"I hesitate to do so..." he said. "It seems an injustice to me to leave Indil thus separated from her family, who may be worrying much, and I don't like the idea of taking her into possible danger. I need to think further on this."

Aeron did not appear fully ready to accept Bergil's answer, but he said nothing, and gave the young ranger his space. But before Bergil's decision was made, Ædegard had a question.

"What news of Tharonwë?"

[littlemanpoet]

"We have our charge, Aeron," he had said to the young man. But his heart quelled. Leafa in danger! Out in the wild! Maybe alone? In his mind's eye he saw the fear in her blue eyes, the terror of being lost darkening the beauty of her face; his heart turned within him, and he wished with a strong desire to seek her out and give her comfort and succor. Then a new thought came to him, and shivers went down his spine.

He turned to the ranger and asked him, "What news of Tharonwë, the elf that we brought to Minas Tirith? Is he still in prison?"

Bergil said, "I know not. It was not part of my charge to find out. Why?"

"Because he is a black traitor and he could have escaped."

"I doubt if he could escape the prisons of Elessar," Bergil asserted. "The Tower Guard watches them most vigilantly."

"Let us hope it is as you say," Ædegard answered. He had his charge, which was to follow Mellondu wherever he went. But what if Mellondu chose to hunt for the women; his very own sister?

"Mellondu! Your sister is in the wilds, maybe alone! Will you not look for her?"

[littlemanpoet]

Mellondu gave his assent, glancing first at one Elf then the other. Erebemlin stared at him darkly. Taitheneb was reflective.

"My sister is in trouble."

Bergil shrugged and said, "Then it would seem we all go the same way." The little girl clapped with delight. They turned around and were ready to set off back toward Minas Tirith. Mellondu looked back at the Elves.

"I have not quit the quest of Amroth. But this is urgent. Come with me and you remain with Amroth."

"Humans!" Erebemlin grated.

Soon they were all galloping back north.

[littlemanpoet]

Another two foot was coming. It was female, Jorje could see, and not old, he could smell. Her clothing, for so Jorje had heard the two foots called it, was ragged and torn in many places. But she showed a Packleader face, her teeth bared in forbidding. Jorje sniffed uncertainly. Was this woman so jealous of her land that she wanted them gone? He smelled the air all around for her scent, and sure enough it was everywhere. But he had to make the woman see that this one fallen from the one toe dog needed help.

The woman approached. Jorje laid his ears back to show that he was no threat, and he whimpered, only the tip of his tail wagging between his hocks. Would the woman understand him? He nosed at the man-woman, for he recalled that it was she who he had seen before, with Red Man and the others. He had found one of them! But this woman had to see that the man-woman needed to be cared for.

The ragged woman came close and knelt by the man-woman. Jorje backed away a little bit.

[Celuien]

So easy. It would be so easy. Sæthryd knelt on the hard earth, listening to the rush of blood in her ears, and farther away, of the wind blowing harsh and wild in the dead passes.

The stranger's face was pale against a frame of dark hair, and even in sleep, Sæthryd thought that there were signs of some struggle within. It would be kindness to put an end to the struggle, to sooth the worried lines into the calm mask of death. That was the proper ending for those who sought the dead lands, whether they knew it or not when they came. Sæthryd stooped closer to the pale face, close enough to feel warm breath coming faintly from the intruder.

It would be so easy to send the stranger to the end of her journey. Sæthryd's fingers rested on the dark hair where it fell across the stranger's throat. But this one was different. She lived, and yet was somehow connected to the dead ones in the hills. Her hand fell back.

With sudden strength, Sæthryd grasped the visitor beneath the arm and dragged her toward the hut. She did not know why this one was different, or what had brought her so far into the wild. But she would find out, and the answer would teach Sæthryd what to do next.

They crossed the threshold, and Sæthryd espied a dog watching her from the trees. The dog ran to the door, and she slammed it tightly, ignoring the dog’s yelped protest. There were snares enough in the wood. The dog would fall into one eventually.

[Imladris]

Aeron touched the lock of hair that hung around his neck and whispered his sister's name. She had told him of the other ladies' disappearance...she had known of them, yet how did she know if it?

Was she trapped? Did she wander between the edge of life and death, a wraith not fully dead, a girl not fully alive?

Was she happy?

He closed his eyes tightly, saw the colours of his lids flow and fade and melt in front of him. He squinted, and slowly blinked one eye open, hoping to see a field of green and his sister waiting for him.

All he saw was the road and his companions as they journeyed on.

When night fell, they made camp and Aeron fell asleep.

He was in the field of flowers and his sister was there, looking to the east. She didn't turn around, but she held out her hand and he took it in his own.

"There is a wind," she said. "I can see it play with your hair."

"It feels like a wind from the sea," Aeron said. "Fresh, and full of life."

"I can't feel the wind anymore, I can't feel the sun in the sky, the earth beneath my feet, the water from the rain. I don't remember how they feel, I am forgetting."

"I...I am sorry, little Gwyl."

"I wait for a swift sunrise," she whispered.

Her hand slipped from his, and she walked into the fields. "Gwyllion, wait!" Aeron ran after her, but she was gone and the meadow was no longer green and lush, but a brown marsh stretching around him. Flies buzzed in the reeds and the smell of death twisted in the mists.

He stumbled through the stink and mud, seeking the meadow, his sister. Something tripped him, and he sprawled into the filth. There was something beside him, and he saw that it was Gwyllion. "Come on, Gwyllion," he gasped. "We don't need to be here."

She didn't move.

"Come on," he shouted. Her skin was cold, her face pallid. And then he saw the blood flowing from her wounds and staining the brown waters crimson. And death was in her unblinking eyes.

"No, Gwyllion, come on, you can't die here, you're already dead! Gwyllion..." He cradled her in his arms, and as he left, he saw Maegeleb standing near by, his arms folded, eyes cold, a satisfied smile on his lips.

Aeron's heart was pounding when he woke and his palms were sweating. "It was a dream," he said. "It was a dream, just a dream. A dream and nothing more."

[Formendacil]

The return to Minas Tirith was accomplished in few days, and to Bergil it seemed that the Elves and the Men were both motivated to travel faster than they had journeyed south, although for different reasons. With the Men, of course, there was the desire to find the womenfolk, and as quickly as possible. For the Elves, however, Bergil ascribed the motivation of wishing to deal with this irksome distraction as quickly as possible.

On the ride, Bergil became better acquainted with the company, but as they rode mostly in silence and did not rest until evening, he did not become close to any of them, and if he had been inclined to reveal his feelings, he would have said that they seemed an odd bunch.

Although apparently still welcome to accept Aeron's invitation and join them in seeking their womenfolk, Bergil was little minded to accept. Kinfolk and good friends waited in Minas Tirith and in Lossarnach whom he had not seen in some years, and there was the matter of Indil. It was Bergil's thought to leave Indil safely in the care of one of his aunts, and to search Lossarnach for her family, while visiting his own.

Indil, however, seemed to be causing other ideas. Raefindan, it seemed to Bergil, was fascinated with the little girl in a most peculiar way. Bergil had not had the opportunity to have it fully explained by any of the company, and none had volunteered the information, but he gathered that it had to do with dreams.

When, however, the company reached Minas Tirith in the heat of a sunny late afternoon, Bergil was immediately approached by one of the Guardsmen, with whom he was well acquainted.

"Bergil! You are a welcome sight," said the Guardsman, grabbing Bergil and grabbing his reins as he entered the city, stopping the young ranger, and slowing the company. Bergil could hear the irritated sigh of one of the company behind him.

"Why is that?" asked Bergil. "Surely the rangers sent north have found the women they sought, or at least traces of them."

"It is not the missing women we need tidings of," said the Guardsman. "Prince Faramir will want to know as soon as he can: did you see or hear any sign of the rogue Elf, Maegeleb?"

Before Bergil could respond beyond shaking his head slowly, an expression of bafflement on his face, Erebemlin had ridden up beside him, a look of disgust on his face, though whether it was towards the escaped Elf or his failed guardians, Bergil did not know.

"He has escaped? How has this happened?"