Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[Orual]

Ravion sat on the floor by the fire, drawing his cloak around him despite the warmth of the cottage. He felt like he had an iron weight on his heart, and that would take more than a lovely shapeshifter to lift. While Marigold was an unexpected occurance, he did not feel uneasy around her. He trusted her, and did not worry for his safety or the safety of any of his companions. He wondered if he was not going just a bit insane.

He looked over at Aeron, who was huddled in a chair. His eyes were downcast, and alarmingly dull. Ravion did not suppose that Aeron was seeing anything around him: perhaps he was seeing Gwyllion. At that thought he glanced at Marigold, and wondered why she had wanted Gwyllion's body. He had seen no harm in it, but thought it odd. Perhaps, though, she could help them give Gwyllion a proper burial. Maybe that would lighten Aeron's heart some. A proper burial was a proper good-bye, and it would fulfill his duty as her brother.

But it would not bring her back, and it would not take away the sorrow.

Ravion stood slowly, feeling very old all of a sudden, and walked over to Aeron. Reaching the boy's chair, he sat again on the ground, and did not look at him. He kept his eyes on the ground. "You should eat something," he said quietly.

Aeron kept silent.

"You have been through much. Suffered much. Your body is as weak as your spirit feels now. If you do not eat, you will fall ill, and I do not fancy carrying you everywhere. You are no light load."

Ravion's attempt at levity was met with stony silence. The Ranger sighed heavily. "Aeron, I am sorry for your loss. I know that it does not help, but I am sorry. Deeply sorry. I mourn with you, and though I cannot comprehend your grief, in whatever small way I can I share it with you."

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung sat, his heart beating more fierce than it had ever before, even more than when they had walked the Golden Woods of Lothlorien. Could it be that they had climbed from the midst of peril and woe into the homey cottage, to sit and it whilst this fair maid tended to them, so young and beautiful, yet so kind and compassionate, as if she were an elderly mother? Was this not a sweet dream to refresh him while he lay weary upon the battlefield? It could not be real.

"Will you not eat, Liornung?" Leafa spoke softly from where she sat with Ædegard.

He shook his head. "Nay, I could not eat at this time. Soon, perhaps."

"Then will you not sing us a song of these wonders? You did so aptly in the Golden Woods."

"That I cannot do, for words are lost to me. And this fair and motherly one has sang for us; I could not best her, and I tremble to lift up my feeble voice after her pure, sweet one."

"But you must say something, Liornung!" said Leafa, with a laugh. "You look as though you are dreaming, and I hardly recognize you. You seem too young now, when before you were always like a father to us."

"Let me be young then, little girl," said Liornung, likewise laughing. "You have no need of my care when fair Marigold is tending to you. I can cast aside my duties as 'father,' as you say, and be youthful. Would that Good Secgrof were here, to sit by this fire, and also fair Blostma, to dance to this song, her golden hair shining in the lights, and her gentle eyes beaming with joy and peace."

And, with a sigh, he fell to eating.

[mark12_30]

The smell of bread wafted out to the elves' nostrils, and tempted them; Erebemlin helped Mellondu dismount from Echo, and together they turned to help Taitheneb with Mellonin. Weak as Mellondu was, he held Taitheneb's horse. There was little need, but the elves were glad of his willingness.

Taitheneb met Mellondu's eyes. "Should we not wake her? This is a fair place."

"It is odd that she has not woken already, " Mellondu said.

"Perhaps, " Erebemlin replied. "She knows that Gwyllion is dead, but in her dreams that death is woven into something else."

"She dreams! What does she dream of?" said Mellondu anxiously.

"Dark things, " said Taitheneb. "Come, Erebemlin, let us wake her."

Taitheneb laid his palm over her forehead, and closed his eyes. Erebemlin walked into her dreams, and searched; a dark fog hindered him. He called her name. Mellondu could hear him whispering. Strain showed on his face.

"Finduilas."

Mellondu waited. The elves strove through the mists, calling, but Mellonin did not wake.

Finally Erebemlin opened his eyes, and turning to Mellondu, said, "Come. I will lead you into the cottage."

"But Mellonin?"

"She will be well. Patience."

"I want to talk to her, " Mellondu replied.

"You will. Patience."

They entered the cottage, and Erebemlin helped Mellondu sit down at the table. Erundil passed the bread and Mellondu began to eat.

Erebemlin gestured to Ravion. "Come."

Mellondu watched as Ravion stood, face blank with surprise, and followed Erebemlin wordlessly out the door. Mellondu twisted, watching; but behind him, Marigold rose, and her dress rustled as she walked past and followed Ravion. She stood in the doorway. Her song changed. Deeper and richer she sang, like deepening shade under a great tree, like dark earth just turned by the plough; and the earth seemed to respond. Ravion's gaze went from Marigold to the elves to Mellonin-- Mellonin raised one hand to her eyes, and the cares faded from her face. She woke peacefully.

"Mother?"

Ravion reached for her. Erebemlin took her from Taitheneb, and stood her between him and Ravion. She looked to Ravion with a childlike wonder and said, "How did we come here? This is lovely. How long have I been dreaming? Was it all a bad dream?"

She turned to Marigold. "You sang with my mother's voice. Yet you are not my mother."

Marigold tipped her head a little. "Your mother would be glad of our meeting."

"Yes, she would." Mellonin reached for Marigold, who embraced her as naturally as any mother greets her child, and turned and led her into the cottage.

Ravion and the elves followed them in, and Ravion returned to Aeron's side. Aeron looked up, and watched as Ravion sat down again. Then Aeron's eyes returned to the floor. Ravion waited.

[Imladris]

"You can't share griefs, Ranger," Aeron mumbled, his eyes glued to the floor. "Nobody can share them, because you didn't know her. Nobody knew her. Many would say that she was better off dead, which is probably true, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it," he rambled. "I want to say that this is all father's fault, for leaving us. If he hadn't left, I wouldn't have become a thief. If he hadn't left Gwyllion would have been happy. If father hadn't left we wouldn't be here right now because you wouldn't have caught me." Aeron stopped, a tear trembling on his eyelash.

Ravion said nothing.

"But no matter how hard I tell this to myself," Aeron continued in a tight voice, "I know that it is not the case. The wise men speak of Doom...I have heard of Doom. It is a dreadful thing that no one can escape. My father was doomed to leave, I was doomed to be a thief, it was my doom that I had to mess up and drag Gwyllion to her doom, but she could not escape death no matter how hard anybody tried because it was her doom to die..." his voice trailed off, and he buried his head on his knees and cried.

[littlemanpoet]

Marigold sat Mellonin by the fire, and still singing, opened a cupboard and pulled an earthen jar from it. She brought it with her and sat next to Mellonin. When she spoke, her words still carried an echo of her lilting tune, like slow moving, reed strewn waters.

"Let me see to the wound on your face, dear one, or else it will leave a scar." She dipped her hand into the jar. What came out in her hand was mud. So it seemed to Mellonin; her brow furrowed in worry. "This will cool the wound, and deaden the pain. Fear not." She raised her mud covered hand and waited. Mellonin nodded and held still. Marigold pressed the mud into her wound, from brow to lip.

"I - I - cannot feel my face!"

"Fear not! Sleep a dreamless sleep tonight, and in the morning we shall see. Lie back." She rose and brought bread to Mellonin. "Eat, my dear one. Rest and be at ease this night." Mellonin looked up at Marigold as if with a child's trusting eyes, and nodded, and ate.

Marigold was humming again, and went to Ravion and Aeron, whose head was buried in his knees, muffling deep sobs. She knelt before the boy and waited. Slowly his heaving shoulders subsided and he rose up a little, and saw her kneeling by him. He looked at her through half closed eyes, his face suddenly closed and distrustful.

She looked at him kindly and said, "Will you go with me to your sister?"

"What use? She is not there. She is dead."

Marigold took a golden flower from her hair. Aeron had not seen it there before, but it lay in her hands, as real and fragrant as if it had just been plucked. "I plucked this marigold today. It still holds a little of its life and much of its fragrance. It reminds me of the fields of marigolds that flourished in the marsh this past summer. Is it not beautiful?"

Aeron nodded dully. He had a notion of why she was talking about the flower this way, and what she might say next, and did not want to hear it; but deep down, he needed to hear her words, with a need he could not name. He waited for her to say more.

"Today your sister's life was plucked like this marigold. I have done what I could to keep her fragrance strong. Is she not beautiful?" Aeron looked, and nodded slowly. The tightness around his eyes loosened and the hardness in his face softened, ever so little. "Will you go to her with me?"

[mark12_30]

Mellondu gaped in disbelief as Mellonin walked right past him, not seeing him, and followed the shapechanger to the hearth. He stirred, but Erebemlin warned him with a raised hand.

So Erebemlin called the ranger to Mellonin's side, but not Mellonin's own brother? Mellondu's patience ran out, and he drew breath for a sharp retort. His anger only grew when Erebemlin's voice sounded in his mind. Patience. Let the River-Daughter care for her.

Mellondu's eyes flamed, and his fists clenched. Who are you to part me from my sister? But as he half-stood, he swayed, and the room spun. He clutched at the table.

Young mortal fool. Persist and you will need healing next! Can you not let those whose need is greater receive theirs?

To his surprise, the tall elf's arms surrounded him, lifted him like a child, and carried him to the hearth. He looked down at Mellonin; her eyes were closed, and her face showed blissful peace. Erebemlin set Mellondu carefully down beside his sister.

Would you like to watch over her as she dreams? I do not think her dreams will be evil; not this time.

Taking another deep breath, Mellondu hesitated, and then grudgingly thanked the elf. You annoy me. But I think you mean well.

Erebemlin did not answer, but only turned to watch Aeron and the River Daughter speaking.

[Imladris]

Aeron glanced at Gwyllion...her face was pale....lined with the fair lines of death. She was beautiful, as Marigold had said. Beautiful with Death's beauty...

Marigold leaned over the body, and tucked the flower into her hair. He would find her with a wreath of flowers in her hair, nestled in a grassy dell... the dream echoed in his mind as he stared at the golden flower.

Aeron gasped a little and plucked the flower from her hair. "Yes, but like this Marigold," he said dully, twirling the stem between his fingers, "she is still dead. And there is nothing that you can do about that. No matter how beautiful she is, I would rather her alive. I would trade this beauty if only she would become alive again."

[littlemanpoet]

Marigold looked at Aeron sadly, and passed a hand through his wild hair.

"I know that you would die in her place. It is well that you love her so. Love her still! And cherish her memory!"

She is not far.

Marigold could feel the light touch of the boy's sister on the cold marshy breeze; it had been that which led her to them. Some purpose lay in that. These were words she could not say, so she spoke not of it. This boy would have to learn its meaning as he could. Dreams lay thick as a many layered weaving around these folk, dreams she could almost see and hear; but they were not hers, and once they left her, those dreams would depart with them. She would do what she could for them.

"I have a boon to ask of you, Aeron." She used his name, having heard it from the young Ranger. He looked up into her eyes. "Though her ghost has left the body, her life was sweet and good, and full of love, not least for you, and I would be grateful if her body's presence could bless my home. And you could stay here for as long as you like, and if you choose to go, you could return as often, as for as long as you wish. Would you permit your sister to be buried here?"