Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[alaklondewen]

Erebemlin and Taitheneb watched over the guests for the remainder of the night. When sunrise was but an hour away, Celegtâl and Caranduin returned, and the elves gently woke the sleeping Men. Erebemlin presented them with fresh water for bathing and laid out a fresh breakfast across the low table. As the travelers prepared themselves, Caranduin descended and readied the horses, so once the group was ready to move they found their horses were freshly rested and the pack horse had new packs filled with supplies and food.

“You will be greatly missed, Silmaethor.” Caranduin took Erebemlin’s hand and bowed in respect. “Look, the forest already grieves.” At that moment a light rain showered the tree-tops, and the falling drops looked like great tears.

“Farewell, Mellon. I will return when you least expect it.” Erebemlin then mounted his tan steed and led the others from the forest. As soon as they stepped out from under the great trees, the Sinda turned to Amroth. “Lord Amroth, this is your quest. Which path shall we take?”

[mark12_30]

Amroth met his friend's gaze. "I have given the choking dust much thought," Amroth replied. "It was the first time I so dreamt. All other dreams had been full of water, or fire; or of empty despair. Yet the dust lingers in my heart. I deem it a sign."

Erebemlin waited. Behind, Taitheneb and Nethwador gazed forward. But Ædegard, Liornung, Bella, and Argeleafa gave heed.

"Such choking dust is found in few places that I know of, Erebemlin. Dagorlad is one place; Gorgoroth and the slopes of Mount Doom also are deep with ash."

"Indeed, my lord."

"Lovely, " muttered Ædegard.

Amroth laughed. "Good friend, you need not come. I would not ask such a quest of any who were unwilling."

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan limped alongside Aeron, who had helped him pack, and reminded him of the word he had hauled out at need, not having remembered it until that moment: kleenex. He thought about it as best he could as he sniffed and sneezed and limped along as best he could, feeling as if his waterlogged head was still underwater with that merchant. Kleenex. When was the last time he had used the word? He could not remember when, but he remembered the look of the place he had been...

.... a small room with a bed far more comfortable than any he had slept in during the last few weeks... soft curtains on windows, the glass panes of which were thin as the morning's hoarfrost; here windows were at least an inch thick. A cold. That's what it was called.... to catch cold....blow your nose into a kleenex....what a strange word, and a strange spelling! The meaning was Clean, but ex? He couldn't place it.

"What was that you said, Raefindan?" Aeron asked him.

"What? I said?" He had been mumbling without realizing it. "I rebeber the place I was last wed I used that word, kleedex. It is a fidne, thid, soft sheet folded over od itself, about the size of a sball parchbet, ad you use it as a dose rag."

"Ugh! You would get it all over your hands! It is too thin!"

Raefindan laughed, which turned to a coughing fit. He groaned, and the ache in his left hip felt worse than ever.

"Oh, what I woudd't do for sub cough medicid."

"Medus - did?" Aeron asked. "Who is Medus, and what did he do, and what has he to do with coughing?"

"A healig draught, to you. It's a codcoctiod-" Aeron looked at him blankly "-ub, it is a bix of wud herb's juice ad other thigs, and drickig it bakes the coughig stop for a little while."

"Ah," Aeron nodded wisely. "You want an herbalist."

"Doe kiddig."

"Now you have turned the offspring of goats into a thing you do! You turn what is said on it's ear, Raefindan!"

He smiled for sheer pleasure. "Aerod, you bake be forget by cold, ad that's sayig subthig!"

"Of course, it is. Why would it not be?"

Raefindan laughed again, which turned to a fit of sneezing, seven in a row. That had to be significant for something, he thought to himself ruefully. Ah yes, significant. That confounded dream. He would have to tell Melonnin about it at some point, when he was ready.

[littlemanpoet]

They were out of Lorien before the sun had risen halfway up the sky. No matter what Amroth might say, Ædegard was going to stay in it - for now. He had many questions that he knew Amroth would never answer. But now there was another Elf, Erebemlin, who looked to have answers, and might be willing to give them. As they continued on, Ædegard moved among the company until he was by Erebemlin.

"Sir, I would speak with you, just you and I, if you are willing."

Erebemlin looked at him quizzically, nodded, and together they moved off a little way, riding side by side.

"I have many questions about this quest we are on, sir-"

"You have my leave to call me Erebemlin, mellon."

"Thank you. I do not know which question to ask first, there are so many, but this is the way of it. I met a Gondorian blacksmith a few weeks back, and enjoyed his friendship for a few hours. I came to think that I knew what kind of lad he was. Then he came ill, and the next time I saw him, he was as you see him now, Amroth. What has become of my blacksmith friend? Is he gone? Is he hidden? Does Amroth have his willingness to use his body? Is my friend even alive anymore? And if so, will he ever come back?"

[Imladris]

Aeron sighed as he watched Raefindan sneeze. "I have always found," Aeron remarked, "than when a nose rag is wanting a sleeve does the job just as well. Is that not so, Gwyll?" He elbowed her in the ribs as she stifled a giggle.

"Uncouth, but yes it does do the job. I would rather have a nose rag though."

"You mean Cleanex," said Aeron with a wink. "Besides a nose rag is such a bother. It takes up so much room and more time to blow your nose. A Cleanex sounds even worse." He nodded and grinned.

He studied the red haired man and wondered where he came from. He came from a land with queer but wonderful speech. And he had an odd case of stating the obvious and turning things into actions, such as when he said the word kidding. "I wonder how one would act like a kid," he mused.

Gwyllion coughed and said, "You act like one all the time."

He gasped. "Me?"

"Yes you. You are dreafully annoying and wild."

Aeron grinned, lowered, his head, baaed like a kid goat, and ran toward his sister, ramming his head into her stomach. She tumbled to the ground and said, "See. Exactly like a kid."

He shrugged and grinned at her.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin drew near, cringing with distaste. "Aeron, after giving such counsel, will you wash his shirt? Raefindan, heed him not. He means mischief. "

Raefindan looked at her, bleary-eyed, and said, "Bud I hab do dose rag."

Ravion laughed in disbelief. Mellonin met Ravion's glance for the first time since he had woken her that morning. Hastily returning her gaze to Raefindan, she stepped toward a shrub. "Like this." Primly closing one nostril at a time, each sharp snort into the shrub was followed by a dainty sniff. Then drawing herself to her full height and inhaling through wide nostrils, she looked down her nose at Aeron. "Sleeves indeed."

"I will not wrestle him again til he changes his shirt, " said Ravion.

"I should think not," said Mellonin, marching forward with a shudder and a grimace.

"He will learn, " said Ravion. "Dirty clothes are misery on the road in winter."

[alaklondewen]

Erebemlin was taken aback by Ædegard’s questions. This was the first time he had considered another spirit belonging to Amroth’s new body. Hesitantly, he replied, “I must be honest with you, Ædegard. I had not thought of his body belonging to any other.” The elf paused and studied his steed’s thick mane. “Whatever means allowed Amroth to return in this state…I do not think the young blacksmith’s spirit would be destroyed. I cannot say for sure, because it involves powers beyond my understanding. It is likely that Amroth’s will is much stronger the boy’s…”

Ædegard nodded, “Will he ever come back?”

“I do not know, mellon. I do not know.”

The pair grew silent and continued to ride, each in his thoughts.

~*~*~
Taitheneb had remained silent thus far. Silmaethor was discussing something with one of the Men, and the others stayed close together chatting like close friends. The elf felt slightly uncomfortable, and he shifted his weight on his bay.

Amroth led them east along the southern border of the forest and soon they passed the last row of mellyrn. Taitheneb swallowed hard with sadness. Why was he leaving the golden forest?

[Orual]

Ravion ran a weary hand over his own forehead, looking worriedly at the still-unconscious figure of Raefindan. "We will ride as far and hard as we can, but we will not weary ourselves too much," he said to Gwyllion. "The delta is not far away...I hope that we can get there before we have to set up camp. What think you, Mellonin?" He turned to the young man, who, looking pale, was standing close to Raefindan. She looked up at him with her wan face. "Can you hold out until the delta?"

"I can do what I must," Mellonin replied quietly. Ravion frowned, but said nothing. He decided to give her time. Hopefully they could reach the delta without their grief being too validated.

[littlemanpoet]

Her name is Mithrellas, and she seeks for her Mistress, who has become lost in the highlands beneath the White Mountains. Mithrellas has been separated from her companions by evil fate brought upon them by dissonant song falling upon their ears from whence she knows not. She names him he who has saved her life.

A day comes when she is back to full health, save that which only joy can bring to her kind, and she asks him to help her find her Mistress. He gives her a white mare to ride, and he rides his black stallion, and they scour the hills and vales side by side for days into weeks, finding nothing. She names him friend.

At last, winter threatens to surround them, and they return to his home. He is unable to relieve her sorrow, but devotes himself to her in all things. She names him heart's friend.

[littlemanpoet]

"Remember our little game?" Liornung asked. "Perhaps you would care to take your turn!"

"Would you hear one of the lays of Rohan, or shall I try a rhyme after the manner of Liornung?"

"Sing what you like, friend!"

"Let me think on this, and I will, I hope, have a song for you when we make camp tonight."

"I can wait," Liornung replied. "What of you, Bellyn? Argeleafa?"

Bellyn smiled and said that she could wait, but Argeleafa looked startled to have been included, and blushed. It made her seem fairer. Ædegard had been aware of her from the start, and thought her a welcome addition to the party if only because she was Rohirric as was he, but her plight prodded his interest.

"So be it!" Ædegard smiled to each of them, last of all to Argeleafa, meeting her eyes. The smile she returned was brief; she bit her lip her face became sad again. Ædegard bent himself to the task of song.

Night came and the party camped at the edge of Lorien, south of where the Silverlode joins the Anduin. Liornung asked for Ædegard's song.

"I am sorry. I need more time."

The watch was divided between them, and the night passed uneventful.

On the next day, Ædegard rode next to Argeleafa and asked her about her life. She was shy and easily overcome with homesickness. Ædegard told her that he felt the same at times, having left his family back in Edoras. Most of that day was spent in quiet, and sometimes Ædegard rode in front, sometimes near the Elves, sometimes beside Argeleafa.

Liornung reminded Ædegard that he owed them a song.

"I shall have one ready tonight, I am thinking."

The party made camp where the Limlight flowed into the Anduin. The river curved back north and east, around a great rise of land between the north and south undeeps. The Wolds were to their south. Ædegard wondered which way Amroth would lead them now. He was content to let him lead, him and his Elven companion Erebemlin. They sat around the campfire. Ædegard had his song ready.

Fair are the fields of green Rohan,
Warm is the sun that shines on the land,
From mountain to wood, from marsh to river,
Mild is its rain, good grain giver.

Deep in my heart are you, Rohan my home,
Far from your quiet fields now I roam.
In a distant land bends my way,
But I shall return to you some day.

Many tales I shall speak to each friend,
Of stout hearts whose words always mend,
Of loyal friends on the road I did greet,
And a maiden fair it was my joy to meet.

Ædegard had allowed his eyes to wander from face to face as he sang his song. On the last line he looked to the face of Argeleafa, and caught and held her gaze, and did not look away. She had been wiping her eyes while he sang the first lines, but her eyes widened at the end, and they told him that she knew his meaning. She looked away then, and back to him, and away.

"A fine song, Ædegard," said Liornung. "I see you have indeed been giving thought, though the song seems unfinished."

"Aye." Ædegard smiled. "I am not ready to end it yet. It needs time."

[mark12_30]

Ravion led Gond, and Gwyllion and Mellonin walked one on Gond's left and one n Gond's right, watching and listening to Raefindan.

Gwyllion echoed his fevered words in her soft voice. Mellonin listened to them both, and whispered them again to herself.

"Forest. Highlands. Rest. Sorrow. Mithril. Lost. Waiting."

"What is Mithril-lost?" Gwyllion asked. "Who lost it? Did Raefindan?"

Mellonin shook her head. "I do not know."

"Sometimes he sounds happy," Gwyllion said.

She nodded, and reached up and stroked his red, drenched hair. To her surprise, Raefindan murmured snatches of a song she did not know.

Ravion turned back to look at her. "That song is not often sung in our land. Yet I have heard it before."

"Whence comes it?" Mellonin asked.

"The south, where the Anduin meets Belfalas," Ravion answered. "It likens the lover's heart to the surging sea-tide, and the beloved to the moon. It is very old."

"How would he know such a song?" Mellonin wondered.

Ravion replied, "I do not know."

Gwyllion replied, "The lover must be sad, for who can catch the moon?"

Mellonin hid a wry smile. The moonstruck lass was no fool. Gwyllion took a turn at smoothing Raefindan's brow, and Mellonin wondered what young Gwyllion thought of love. Had Gwyllion ever loved a man? Mellonin's own heart had been snared before, for a day, or a year. But each time she held her peace, and each time the shining one slowly faded.

Mellonin gazed for a moment at Ravion's back, and warned herself. What good is it to grasp at the moon? It cannot be caught, or held, or kept; and it is no refuge.

She turned her attention to Raefindan, who had finished his song, and now murmured again.