Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung's hands closed tight together, and his face was grim and full of anger. There was the sister, that he did not know, and though he could not see her he knew that she was afraid. Were Bellyn and Argeleafa somewhere, likewise weeping, in grief and fear? Ædegard, the brave man, had gone to seek his beloved, and would not leave her behind. Liornung hoped with all his heart that he would find Leafa and rescue one, and that neither one would come to any harm. And he hoped, he hoped with all strength hope could be hoped, that Bellyn would be saved and unharmed. And this woman, this sister, the woman he did not know. He hoped also for her safety. And a question ran in his mind: Why? Why was there such evilness in the world? Why was it necessary for this woman to be filled with fear and grief? Why was it that Bella and Leafa must be gone? Why was not the world good? He had spoken it to Ædegard once in the days when they first travelled together, and it burst now from his lips in a passionate whisper. "Alas for the sorrows of the world!"

There she stood in grieving fear
and gravely they with faces dark;
stained on her cheek a single tear:
of her frightened pain a mark.

They were the words to the Ballad. Never before had the words come to his mind, yet now they came to him clear. She, the fearful woman, and they, the company of rescuers, he at least who was thrown in agony at the thought of her peril, and the peril of the other two maids. Words from earlier in the Ballad came to him, though he did not bid them. They simply came, in the place of his thoughts, and the clear notes, full of woe and also anger, rang through his heart.

Fair Leafa with her golden hair
and trothed to Ædegard the brave;
and young Bella, ever fair
were taken to a peril grave.

Oh, would that they were safe! Would that Ædegard would bring Leafa back! Would that he, Liornung, could be at Bella's side now, taking her to a place of shelter, and to Nethwador who loved her.

Bellyn there was loved by one,
Nethwador, the name he had
and his heart, now she was gone,
full deep with ire, and sorrow sad.

To the swamp they made their way
to find the frightful, wicked foe,
and swore to make the evil pay
if they found the maids had suffered woe.

Ædegard then turned and left
to find his love, young Leafa fair
for she was left of help bereft
until to save her he did dare.

The strains of a weeping fiddle rose above the song, high, piercing, and lamenting. A flute sounded softly and swelled gently in low grieving. The music was like a stream of tears, and the voice faded. Higher the fiddle went, and softer the flute, and then the one dropped and the other raised until they were mingled together in the same key of painful lament. And then another fiddle came, playing slow harmonies, and for an instant the two fiddles touched each other in song before they broke away and left to their separate mournings. A horn call sounded then, full of majesty and bravery, for not all was sorrow, and Ædegard rode after his love, and the men were straight and tall and willing to lay down their lives for the maids. And also there joined in a third fiddle, its music soft and gentle for the maids ceased not in their purity, innocence, kindness of heart, sweetness, and beauty. Then a last instrument joined in, one that played the notes of the malice and wickedness that was in the hearts of the foe, and it chilled the heart for its pure evil.

The music rose higher and higher in sound, full of all things... evil, lamenting, bravery, love, loyalty, and sweetness. Liornung closed his eyes as the music swept over him in mighty waves, overwhelming him, and he dropped his face in his clenched hands.

[mark12_30]

He felt Amroth slipping away. He knew the fear of the elves. He saw Echo's ears flick backward, and his eyes showed white. His own Celegoer Beorneth stamped, and tossed his head.

Nethwador spoke half in his own tongue, half in garbled elvish. "Why must he choose? Why must we save Nimrodel or the sister? Why cannot we save both?"

Taitheneb had no time to answer, and Erebemlin barely heard Nethwador's thought or speech.

"If the bad elf will hurt Lady Bella, then let us kill him now, " Nethwador said.

Erebemlin paused, and considered turning the boy loose on the swamp elf, but thought better of it. Wait.

"If he hurts Bella, I will kill him, " said Nethwador.

Taitheneb turned to Erebemlin. "We are more than they."

Erebemiln said, "Til their darts find us."

Mellondu's mouth tightned. He reached for the reins, but there were none. Confound the elf... how do you turn this beast with no reins, Mellondu thought, and thumped his heels into Echo's sides. Echo snorted and jigged. Mellondu thumped him again, but Erebemlin's thoughts rang clear. Halt. Echo trembled, crouching, ready to spring.

Mellondu's cry echoed. "Release my sister! Free my sister alive and unharmed!"

So, replied the swamp-elf. The wiser of the two has spoken.

Mellondu curled up as if he had been struck, and Amroth's thoughts cut through. No. We do not yield.

Echo sidestepped and churned as Mellondu writhed, now clinging to the mane. "No!" He cried. "Free her. Free Mellonin!"

"Aye, " said Ravion. "There is no time. Free Mellonin!"

"Wait!" ordered Taitheneb.

Nethwador's thoughts and words came out in a jumble. "Why must we wait? Ædegard has gone to find Argeleafa; let us fight for Bella, and this girl too? If this cruel elf hurts her, will he hurt Bella? I will kill him if he does. And if the nasty teethy men touch Bella, I will kill them all. We must kill this swamp-elf! I want him to die!"

He drew his knife, and Celegoer gathered himself.

Erebemlin met his eyes. Wait.

With an effort, Nethwador obeyed, and Celegoer calmed.

Erebemlin spoke to Echo and to his own horse, and rode up beside Echo; he considered lifting Amroth onto his own horse, but Mellondu clung to the horse desperately. Erebemlin leaned on his hands, crouched on hir horse's back, and stepped lightly over to Echo, settling himself behind his king. Mighty arms circled the blacksmith. Echo calmed. Erebemlin reached one hand and placed it on Amroth's sweat-drenched brow.

"We don't have time for this, " said Ravion. "Free the girl. Free Mellonin!"

You will abandon your quest, and leave Nimrodel to me. You will not seek her again.

"Nimrodel!" spat Ravion. "Leave the history, and give us Mellonin. Return her to us or we will come and get her."

Not if you want her to live, replied the swamp-elf.

Taitheneb met Erebemlin's eyes, and knew that he had not found what he sought. The blacksmith hung limp in Erebemlin's arms, and Erebemlin's face was stony cold.

"He is near death. This body is not strong enough for the king."

Ravion's eyes grew wide. "Body... King." He shook his head, and looked to Raefindan.