Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

alaklondewen · 11-28-2004, 11:13 AM

Near the fire, Erebemlin stood tall and silent. His eyes studied the River Daughter as she ruffled Aeron’s hair. She was quite beautiful, and unlike any creature the elf had seen before. Within her small form she contained a great power, yet she was soft and caring. Tilting his head slightly, he watched the flickering light reflecting in the many shades of her long hair. The elf slowly exhaled the breath he had not realized he had been holding, and Marigold turn momentarily and met his gaze. She smiled warmly before turning back to Aeron. Heat quickly rose into Erebemlin’s cheeks. His hand covered his mouth as he cleared his throat awkwardly and swiftly sat at the table beside Taitheneb.

Taitheneb grinned at the elder elf, delighted to be in this beautiful place and finding his embarrassment slightly amusing. The younger elf sliced a piece of warm bread, placed it on a small saucer, and then slid it over the table to Erebemlin, who nodded in gratitude and began to eat, keeping his eyes lowered and away from the River Daughter.

Erebemlin internally kicked at himself for becoming so easily embarrassed. He had lived too long and fought in too many battles to let himself become flushed in anyone’s presence. Stealing a quick glance at Marigold, he stood suddenly. “I’m going to step out for air,” he told Taitheneb without looking at him. Taitheneb just smiled to himself and watched Silmaethor stride out to the porch.

mark12_30 · 11-30-2004, 08:32 AM

Nethwador had shared his bread with Bella, but still eaten all he could hold. He smiled at Bella, and then gazed fondly at Marigold, and thought about the sudden turn of events.

Amroth had been kind to him, and a lord and master. And Bella-- well, he could talk all day about that. But Marigold-- she made him comfortable. Peaceful. On the edge of a wild swamp he felt safe. After being hungry and cold, he was warm and fed. After wandering, he was secure.

They had only just arrived, and yet, he almost felt that he never wanted to leave.

Would Bella stay here with him? Could they live together with Marigold, safe and secure and warm and happy? The Merlocks were nearby, but Marigold knew about them. Tharonwe was nearby too, but Marigold did not fear him. Was there a safer place in the world? Certainly there was no safer place in all the swamp.

How to care for his horse here? And Bella's horse? Would they be happy? There were fields to the south; he knew, from pictures in the minds of his friends. Perhaps the horses could roam there during the day. He wondered how far the fields were.

His full stomach made him sleepy. He wanted to go to the fire, and lie down. But he wanted to stay with Bella. And he wanted to talk to Marigold, to sit near her, too. All of them together by the fire would be nice. But Mellondu's sister and her dead friend were by the fire. And there was the boy, sulking. THe boy was sad about Mellondu's sister's friend.

Taking a deep breath, he took a meal-sized chunk of bread, got up, walked to the sulking boy, and pushed the bread into his hands. The boy glared at him, and then at the bread. Nethwador walked toward an empty corner of the hearth; he could sit with his back against the warm stones of the chimney. Perhaps Bella would come sit with him. He stood by the fireplace, and turned to her, and spoke. "Bella?"

She looked sleepy too. She stood, and drawing her cloak about herself despite the warmth, she came to the chimney. He sat down with his back to the stones. She sat nearby, not too close for modesty but not too far for friendship. Nethwador was content.

A green shadow rustled hearby, and they looked up. Marigold gave them each a cup. Inside was a dark, thick drink. They looked up at her, wondering.

Her eyes twinkled. "Blueberry. You'll both have purple teeth, but pay that no heed. Drink, and rest."

They leaned back against the chimney again. They sipped at the cups, and smiled at each other; it was true. They drank and giggled their way to the bottom of the cups, and then with Marigold nearby, leaned back against the warm stones, and drifted into a sweet, dreamless sleep.

littlemanpoet · 11-30-2004, 07:40 PM

Raefindan

Raefindan dreamed again.

He stood again at the edge of the vale of Nimrodel and Mithrellas. The dark haired one's head came up; she seemed sorrowful. She recognized him.

"Imrazor!"

"Why do you call me that?"

"That is your name."

He shook his head, but let the matter stand. "What saddens you, Lady?"

"Death has claimed a lovely child."

Gwyllion. The loss of the lively, joyful, moonstruck girl, struck him full in the heart. Raefindan squinted his eyes shut. Tears leaked through the corners of his eyes. Something soft struck his body. He opened his eyes to see that he had fallen to the turf. A shadow was cast over him; he looked up. It was Mithrellas, her face full of care. She was fair beyond words, and looked nothing like his Angela, his love, who was lost to him. Too many deaths. He turned from her, shaking his head, and looked to the blades of grass beneath him.

"I have a message for you," he said to the grass.

"Speak it, my love."

Raefindan shook his head again, and looked up to her, drying his streaming cheeks. "There is one who loves Nimrodel. I speak not of he who was lost to the sea. His name is Maegeleb."

"Sharp spirit?"

"His love is centuries old. He desires to end the grief of Nimrodel, to bring her joy to make her forget her years of sorrow."

The vale blurred and faded and vanished.

Tharonwe

Maegeleb took Roy Edwards from the vale before Nimrodel's servant maid said too much. He opened memories of warfare. They were not Roy Edwards' own memories, but things he had read of. There were trenches and blasted earth, mud discolored to green and yellow mire. The air bled yellow like the stench decay in the merlocks' marshes. Soldiers ran from the yellow air, their faces hidden behind strange masks; and those who wore no masks, choked and fell in yellow spew and mud. The air was poisoned. The words that came with these memories were The Somme and poisoned gas and world war one. This might be useful. How was the poison made? Curse it. Roy Edwards did not know. Maegeleb would have to search the longer.

The others had come from the swamp, Tharonwe knew, and had found a place to stay the night, some home whose owner he could not see, nor hear, nor probe. Maybe it was an old shack where no one lived. Some of them seemed to be ready to stay there for the rest of their lives. Well and good. In the morning he and the young red head from the future would put some more leagues between them.

11-28-2004, 11:13 AM	#1
alaklondewen Song of Seregon Join Date: Feb 2002 Location: Following the road less traveled Posts: 1,193	Erebemlin Near the fire, Erebemlin stood tall and silent. His eyes studied the River Daughter as she ruffled Aeron’s hair. She was quite beautiful, and unlike any creature the elf had seen before. Within her small form she contained a great power, yet she was soft and caring. Tilting his head slightly, he watched the flickering light reflecting in the many shades of her long hair. The elf slowly exhaled the breath he had not realized he had been holding, and Marigold turn momentarily and met his gaze. She smiled warmly before turning back to Aeron. Heat quickly rose into Erebemlin’s cheeks. His hand covered his mouth as he cleared his throat awkwardly and swiftly sat at the table beside Taitheneb. Taitheneb grinned at the elder elf, delighted to be in this beautiful place and finding his embarrassment slightly amusing. The younger elf sliced a piece of warm bread, placed it on a small saucer, and then slid it over the table to Erebemlin, who nodded in gratitude and began to eat, keeping his eyes lowered and away from the River Daughter. Erebemlin internally kicked at himself for becoming so easily embarrassed. He had lived too long and fought in too many battles to let himself become flushed in anyone’s presence. Stealing a quick glance at Marigold, he stood suddenly. “I’m going to step out for air,” he told Taitheneb without looking at him. Taitheneb just smiled to himself and watched Silmaethor stride out to the porch.

11-30-2004, 08:32 AM	#2
mark12_30 Stormdancer of Doom Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars Posts: 4,349	Nethwador had shared his bread with Bella, but still eaten all he could hold. He smiled at Bella, and then gazed fondly at Marigold, and thought about the sudden turn of events. Amroth had been kind to him, and a lord and master. And Bella-- well, he could talk all day about that. But Marigold-- she made him comfortable. Peaceful. On the edge of a wild swamp he felt safe. After being hungry and cold, he was warm and fed. After wandering, he was secure. They had only just arrived, and yet, he almost felt that he never wanted to leave. Would Bella stay here with him? Could they live together with Marigold, safe and secure and warm and happy? The Merlocks were nearby, but Marigold knew about them. Tharonwe was nearby too, but Marigold did not fear him. Was there a safer place in the world? Certainly there was no safer place in all the swamp. How to care for his horse here? And Bella's horse? Would they be happy? There were fields to the south; he knew, from pictures in the minds of his friends. Perhaps the horses could roam there during the day. He wondered how far the fields were. His full stomach made him sleepy. He wanted to go to the fire, and lie down. But he wanted to stay with Bella. And he wanted to talk to Marigold, to sit near her, too. All of them together by the fire would be nice. But Mellondu's sister and her dead friend were by the fire. And there was the boy, sulking. THe boy was sad about Mellondu's sister's friend. Taking a deep breath, he took a meal-sized chunk of bread, got up, walked to the sulking boy, and pushed the bread into his hands. The boy glared at him, and then at the bread. Nethwador walked toward an empty corner of the hearth; he could sit with his back against the warm stones of the chimney. Perhaps Bella would come sit with him. He stood by the fireplace, and turned to her, and spoke. "Bella?" She looked sleepy too. She stood, and drawing her cloak about herself despite the warmth, she came to the chimney. He sat down with his back to the stones. She sat nearby, not too close for modesty but not too far for friendship. Nethwador was content. A green shadow rustled hearby, and they looked up. Marigold gave them each a cup. Inside was a dark, thick drink. They looked up at her, wondering. Her eyes twinkled. "Blueberry. You'll both have purple teeth, but pay that no heed. Drink, and rest." They leaned back against the chimney again. They sipped at the cups, and smiled at each other; it was true. They drank and giggled their way to the bottom of the cups, and then with Marigold nearby, leaned back against the warm stones, and drifted into a sweet, dreamless sleep.

11-30-2004, 07:40 PM	#3
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	Raefindan Raefindan dreamed again. He stood again at the edge of the vale of Nimrodel and Mithrellas. The dark haired one's head came up; she seemed sorrowful. She recognized him. "Imrazor!" "Why do you call me that?" "That is your name." He shook his head, but let the matter stand. "What saddens you, Lady?" "Death has claimed a lovely child." Gwyllion. The loss of the lively, joyful, moonstruck girl, struck him full in the heart. Raefindan squinted his eyes shut. Tears leaked through the corners of his eyes. Something soft struck his body. He opened his eyes to see that he had fallen to the turf. A shadow was cast over him; he looked up. It was Mithrellas, her face full of care. She was fair beyond words, and looked nothing like his Angela, his love, who was lost to him. Too many deaths. He turned from her, shaking his head, and looked to the blades of grass beneath him. "I have a message for you," he said to the grass. "Speak it, my love." Raefindan shook his head again, and looked up to her, drying his streaming cheeks. "There is one who loves Nimrodel. I speak not of he who was lost to the sea. His name is Maegeleb." "Sharp spirit?" "His love is centuries old. He desires to end the grief of Nimrodel, to bring her joy to make her forget her years of sorrow." The vale blurred and faded and vanished. Tharonwe Maegeleb took Roy Edwards from the vale before Nimrodel's servant maid said too much. He opened memories of warfare. They were not Roy Edwards' own memories, but things he had read of. There were trenches and blasted earth, mud discolored to green and yellow mire. The air bled yellow like the stench decay in the merlocks' marshes. Soldiers ran from the yellow air, their faces hidden behind strange masks; and those who wore no masks, choked and fell in yellow spew and mud. The air was poisoned. The words that came with these memories were The Somme and poisoned gas and world war one. This might be useful. How was the poison made? Curse it. Roy Edwards did not know. Maegeleb would have to search the longer. The others had come from the swamp, Tharonwe knew, and had found a place to stay the night, some home whose owner he could not see, nor hear, nor probe. Maybe it was an old shack where no one lived. Some of them seemed to be ready to stay there for the rest of their lives. Well and good. In the morning he and the young red head from the future would put some more leagues between them.