Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[mark12_30]

Ædegard, Bella, Argeleafa, and Liornung gathered around the fire on the side away from the boy, and made room for him. Liornung stood, morsel in hand, and beckoned to the boy.

The wild boy sat shivering, eyeing the food; but he did not move.

"Dont' waste your time, " said Ædegard.

Liornung smiled at Bella. "Well, if he acts like a wild animal, perhaps he can be tamed like one?" He approached the wild boy, who started, jumped up, and stood over Amroth. Liornung halted, showed him the food, and slowly put it down on the sweet grass. Then he backed away, and sat down by the fire. He pretended to take no notice as the boy inched forward towards the food.

When the morsels were gone, and the boy was once again guarding Amroth, Liornung took another handful of food, and walked sideways toward the boy, leaving the food a little closer to the fire this time. Again they pretended not to watch him. Liornung doled out handful after handful of food, despite Ædegard's protests, and each handful was left closer to the fire. Finally he came within ten feet of the group, but would come no further.

"Well, " said Liornung, "After that fine meal, Bella and Argaleafa, I think I shall rest. But this fire isn't in quite the right place; rather, I prefer to sleep over there." And he pointed to a place not twenty feet off.

The rest exchanged glances, but Liornung marched off and gathered another armful of firewood. They studied him, baffled, but at Ædegard's disgruntled shrug, he and the ladies joined in the search for firewood. Liornung started the new fire, cared for his horses, arranged his bed and lay down with his head on his belongings. The rest gathered around the new fire, Ædegard still glaring at the wild boy.

"Let him rest! Leave him alone!" snapped Ædegard, placing his hand on the pommel of his weapon. Liornung laid his hand on Ædegard's arm. The rest looked up; the boy replied with a stream of harsh words as he dragged Amroth towards the old fire. Echo and the boy's horse were brought closer, and the boy settled down around his fire. They tossed some wood near him, and he added it to the fire.

Ædegard let go of the pommel. "I will take the first watch," he growled.

[Orual]

Ravion swiped irritably at the small cut on his face. It really wasn't that bad, but it did sting. He didn't want to waste any of his bloodmoss on it, but he did wish he had something to bring down the slight swelling that had begun around the cut.

He turned around when he heard Gwyllion start to rage. She was beating on Aeron's stomach, having already knocked him to the ground. He exchanged a quick, worried look with Mellonin--even if he didn't like the siblings, the last thing they needed was a serious injury--and strode quickly over to them. Aeron pulled Gwyllion up and whispered something to her, dusting himself off.

"Ravion, I know what you are going to--" Aeron began, but Ravion held up a hand.

"Save your breath. Or at least get it back before you start wasting it," Ravion said, his voice less snide than he would have had it. Gwyllion's outburst, this time, was more worrisome than irritating. "Gwyllion, go into Gond's saddlebag--the one closest to his head, on his right side. Find a reddish-brown powder and bring me a pinch. It should help Aeron's sore stomach." He raised an eyebrow at the boy before Aeron could protest. Gwyllion nodded and left.

Ravion took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face, over his hair and to the back of his neck. "Aeron, I know that we are not friends. And I know that what I am about to ask is probably more personal than you'd like to share with me. But I have to know this. If you will not tell me for my sake, tell me for Mellonin's sake. Will Gwyllion stay like this? Is something wrong with her? We cannot allow her to continue like this. What caused that outburst? We are too far along to send her home, thus, we must find how to keep her calm. We cannot afford many more of those outbursts."

[Imladris]

Aeron glanced up at the ranger, raised his eyebrows, and said with a shrug, "I do not know if she will stay like this. She could get worse. She was never like this. She was never violent in her fits."

Ravion nodded and then said, "Yes, but why does she have these fits?"

Aeron heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. He did not want to tell this stoic ranger, this probably fearless ranger, that, as far as he could fathom, she was terrified of blood -- that the mere sight of it was enough to send her into a trembling fit of abject fear. Yet it still did not make sense. Why did she become violent? She had never done that before. Unless, of course, it was just that she was furious at him for asking her to through the pebbles...but that had been a harmless joke and even Ravion had not lost his temper. No, the fear was the seed of the anger. But when she used to cut herself (before he had realized her extreme fear) when he asked her to prepare some vegetables for cooking, she had never blamed him or become angry with him. Could she actually like the ranger? He almost choked and he darted a glance at Gwyllion as she came back with the powder.

The powder reminded him of the pounding she had given him. He wondered if he should just live with the pain that was slowly growing and refuse it. Who knew what could come down the road. How did it feel to be in pain? He glanced at the ranger and studied him. How many battles had he been in where he had been in terrible pain with no herb to relieve it? How did it feel to be in such pain. Straightening, he said, "No thank you Gwyllion. If I need a little pinch of that strange stuff because of my sister's weak punches, I am quite the sniveling fool." He glanced down at her, and turned away slightly. Her punching had been much more than weak -- a good deal stronger than he would have expected from her. But no matter.

"You did not answer my question, Aeron," Ravion said, drumming his fingers.

How he did harp on that! "She is afraid of blood," Aeron said, shaking his hair from his eyes. "And I do not know why."

[mark12_30]

Ædegard was just about to wake Liornung to take the next watch, when they were all awakened by a hoarse shout from Amroth. Ædegard jumped to his feet, followed by Liornung.

The wild boy jumped up as well, and faced them, even as Amroth struggled to his feet round-eyed and gasping. Everyone halted but the horses, who milled and snorted at the edge of the firelight.

"Amroth, what ails you? Amroth?"

His fears ebbed. "Dreams. Again, the dark dreams."

"You are feverish, " said Liornung. "The dew lies heavy on your face."

"Feverish, " Amroth repeated. He brushed his forehead, then studied his moist hand with a frown.

The wild boy tugged at him, jabbering. "Yes, Mellon, I will rest again. You were guarding me?"

The wild boy straightened and nodded.

Amroth said, "From my other friends."

The boy hung his head, and Amroth smiled. "You need not fear them. I do not. They have proven themselves true and good."

Ædegard spoke. "Why does he understand you and not us?"

"I speak to his heart even as I speak to his mind. What do you wish to tell him?"

Liornung held up his hand. "We won't hurt him, if he won't hurt us anymore."

"Mellon, you hurt Liornung?" Amroth said coldly.

Panic kindled in the boy's eyes. Amroth stepped forward and touched his shoulder. "You must not hurt my friends. Promise me this."

The boy responded in a rush of harsh, fearful words, and Amroth waited. Slowly his tone changed to pleading, and Amroth waited still. Finally he grew silent, and Amroth quietly said, "I have named you my friend, Mellon. But you may not, and will not be my only friend. If you will ride with me, you must agree to this."

The boy stamped his foot and things might have gone ill, but Bella drew near holding out a peice of last night's bread. "Mellon?" she said softly.

"She will not hurt us," Amroth said. And he took the wild boy's hand in his own, and let Bella place the bread into the boy's hand.

Confusion fought with fear in the boy's eyes, but he put the bread in his bag. Liornung brought him some raisins. Argeleafa brought a blanket, and draped it over the boy's shoulders. Amroth steadied the boy for each gift.

Ædegard hung back, scowling, and he and the wild boy glared at each other making no attempt to conceal their hostility.

Liornung approached Ædegard. "Give him this apple."

"I think not."

"He is travelling with us whether we will or no," said Liornung.

"So we have nothing to say in the matter!"

"Amroth did not ask us to follow him either."

Ædegard stood, wrestling with the temptation to take both his horses and return to lands where folk were reasonable. He looked at Amroth, still holding the boy.

"Why should he come with us?"

Amroth replied, "He has been hunted like a wild boar."

Ædegard wrestled with his emotions. Finally he took the apple from Liornung, and approached the boy, and without looking at him, dropped the apple into his bag, turned, and walked away.

"Now, " said Amroth. "Will you be kind to my friends?"

With an air of defeat, the boy nodded. But he stole a glance at Bella, and said something in his strange tongue.

She looked startled. "What did he say?"

Amroth raised both eyebrows and tersely replied, "That you are wondrous fair."

Ædegard and Liornung's eyes went wide, and their old fears gave way to a new one. Silently they resolved never to leave either lady alone.

[Orual]

Ravion sighed when Aeron turned down the powder, and wondered briefly how old the boy was. He remembered turning down help for pride, but he had recovered from that particular affliction when he suffered a particularly nasty bruise from the blunt side of a spear, along with some broken ribs. He was offered medical help, and accepted it eagerly. There was some teasing, but the bruise was gone, and he hadn't suffered any permanent damage.

Ravion waited for an answer, but Aeron was too busy posturing and looking brave. "You did not answer my question, Aeron," he said.

Aeron seemed reluctant to answer. "She is afraid of blood," he said. "And I do not know why."

"There are numerous reasons why a person might be frightened of blood," Ravion said. "A serious accident as a child. Perhaps she was injured, or one of your parents was? If she associates blood with the pain of a loved one--"

"She is just scared of it, all right? I said that I do not know why. What more do you want?"

"I want to find a solution to this. Gwyllion will injure herself if she keeps doing this. She will start raging on someone other than you, and they will defend themselves." Aeron stared at Ravion, obviously getting ready to defend his sister. "Not me. Try not to be an idiot. But what about Mellondu?" Ravion lowered his voice, but he was fairly sure that Mellonin had not heard. "You recall that we are chasing a moonstruck blacksmith. I have not met him. I do not know if he is violent. If he is, and Gwyllion continues acting this irrationally, he might post a threat to her. You must do something about it, or allow me to."

[Orual]

The wind brought with it strange scents, and Erundil's travels brought strange tidings.

The man across the table had a red face and an overly free tongue from drinking too much. "They say the blacksmith-elf lord is nearing the Limlight. Maybe he's headed back to his throne!" The man's friends guffawed appreciatively, and the man raised his glass and took a deep swig.

The Ranger stared evenly at him, his bright blue eyes showing nothing. The man coughed self-consciously. "Look, the lad is crazy. There's nothing more to be said of it."

The Ranger shrugged. "I think that you are likely wrong," he said, standing up and passing a few coins to the innkeeper. "There is almost always something more to be said."

The Limlight lay to his north. What interested him more lay right before him. A campsite, and around it lay several people. Two men, from what he could see, a girl, and two boys.

Erundil watched them for a moment, his eyes taking in every detail. They had not heard his approach. That was good, it was as he planned it. He did not know if the boy was truly insane--he did not know if he was dangerous--but there was no wisdom in testing fate. He had his bearings. He knew the land now. He knew his opponents, if it came to a fight.

He stepped on the grass, and let them know of his presence.

[alaklondewen]

Ugrashk ran quickly in the dark. He hated going on these “missions”. Of course he wanted the flesh to fill his growling stomach, knowing all too well the harshness of the winters in the mountains, but he hated leaving the confines of the mines. The fresh air made his head light and the fragrance of the land between the mountains and the forest turned his stomach. Then there was that wicked forest. He hated the nasty elves and that golden forest more than he hated the fresh air and grass. If they were lucky they would get to have some real fun reeking havoc in there tonight. Nashka would never let them go too far in because he always wanted to stick to the orders, but they might get to play some nonetheless.

Years ago strange stories came about Orcs following a band (this was around the time of the fall of the great demon) that entered that wretched place and were never seen again. There had always been rumors of the dangerous Lady that haunted the forest, but after the War, she left and the place has never been the same. The forest may not have been as dangerous, but it was still disgusting to Ugrashk. He cringed at the thought of those nasty elves and their songs.

After moving for a few hours, the forest finally loomed ahead in the darkness. Nashka barked orders at the group to form their line, and Ugrashk fell in. The great shadow of the trees grew and became an immense black mass in the grey shadows of the moonless night. Ugrashk growled under his breath as he readied himself. Moments after, he heard what sounded like a whistle, coming from where…he could not tell. He turned his head to see if it one of the Orcs behind him, if so he would shut them up in a hurry. As he turned back to the front, several things happened so quickly that he was unsure of what was taking place. First, the soldier directly in front of him collapsed, whether he had tripped or something else, Ugrashk did not know, but he caught his foot on the underside of the fallen and lunged forward. He heard several other whistles before he realized they were under attack. Panicking at seeing those falling all around him, he pulled out his bow and let a clumsy arrow fly not knowing where the assailants were located.

Spinning on his heels, Ugrashk was going to run back to the mountains and the mines. He would tell the Great Kugruk, and a whole army would be sent to destroy the forest. The fleeing Orc tripped over another of his comrades who grabbed his foot asking for help. Ugrashk shook his foot and kicked the fallen Orc until he let go of his limb. Before he could completely twist himself, he was hit so hard that his body was thrown backward. Looking down, he could see the silver shaft, glistening even in the darkness, protruding from his chest. Ugrashk dropped to his knees trying to pull the arrow from his body, but was unsuccessful as his strength became increasingly diminished. He was tired and his body finally collapsed entirely and never moved again.

~*~*~

“Let us go and dispose of the remains,” Erebemlin called to the other three. He was relieved the task was over and knew much work needed to be done to cleanse the area.

The foursome worked until the morning ensure all of their enemies were deceased, then checking the bodies for any weapons or trinkets that may have been taken from other races. Once these preliminary tasks were handled, Celegtâl and Taitheneb dug a small pit a significant distance south of the forest, while Erebemlin and Caranduin (being of stouter build than the other two) carried the bodies one by one and laid them in the center. Caranduin then kindled a great fire that’s thick black smoke rose and tainted the new morning's sky.