Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[Orual]

"Can you feel it?" Ravion asked quietly to Erundil, riding behind him.

"Feel...what?" Erundil replied, as though startled from deep thoughts. Ravion glanced behind at the older Ranger, who looked troubled.

"Gwyllion's absence. I know you did not know her well, but can you feel that something is missing?"

"Of course," Erundil said, quickly and surely. He looked at Ravion. "Yes, I feel it. But not as acutely as he." Erundil pointed out.

Ravion followed Erundil's finger to the mount that Erebemlin and Aeron shared. "Oh," he said softly. "Yes."

"Try to help him in the days to come," Erundil said. "You have felt this pain before. For him, it is a new and strange wound, and it hurts all the more for its unfamiliarity."

"I think that Marigold may have helped him," Ravion suggested.

"Yes, but he is still hurting," Erundil said. "You've experienced death. Help him through this."

"You've experienced it, too," Ravion said. He wished that Erundil would drop the subject. He had no help to give Aeron. All of his pain was still inside of him. Aeron would not do well to learn from Ravion.

Erundil said nothing more.

Ravion rode in silence, contemplating Erundil's words. But what had Ravion to teach the poor, grieving boy? To ignore the pain? To try to pretend it never happened? That he had never had a sister in the first place? It would be no favour to the boy to let him swallow the pain and keep it in until he became bitter and hard and icy like Ravion. Until he dreaded sleep because it was the only time when his pain came back to the surface, to haunt his dreams. Until it took so much effort to reach out to Mellonin that he could hardly tell whether or not the tightening in his chest was going to kill him before she answered him...

He looked again at Aeron, and shook his head. Ravion was no expert in the care of grief. He could only pray that the boy would learn to let go.

[mark12_30]

Whiteness, shining, bright, clean, pure. Like her love. She miled, and reached down to trace in the snow with her finger. White crystals gathered on her finger, and she brought it to her mouth with a smile.

She spat. Ash! Bitterness filled her mouth. She stood, indignant, and once again looked round. All around her lay grey ash as far as the eye could see.

Alas for the joy I have lost. Alas for the bitter life I live. Alas for my love. Once, my love, you were kind; long ago. But my life has become bitter. Bitter. My hope lies in ruin; ruin and ash.

She bent down, and wrote in the ash with her finger.

[mark12_30]

Amroth by himself had hardly been a burden; but Amroth had fed Echo with his own fire, and with the departure of his master's friendly thoughts, the fire left him too. As Echo wearied, he lagged; and finally he stumbled, not out of weariness, but carelessness. Ahead of him, the elves with Aeron, and Ravion and Erundil pulled well ahead. Behind him, the riders of Rohan sent Mellondu puzzled glances.

"Send him forward, " called Ædegard. "He has leagues in him yet. Send him on."

Mellondu turned a pleading glance toward the proud rider. "And just how, " he replied, "do I do that?"

Ædegard burst out laughing. Liornung and Bella and Argeleafa looked over, some surprised, Liornung worried; but Mellondu dropped the reins and spread his arms wide, with a good-natured, helpless laugh of his own. "Please, someone have pity on me, and tell me how to make this beast obey?"

Far ahead, the elves and rangers turned in surprise as a loud burst of rohirric laughter glittered over the frozen plains. Moments later, the riders of Rohan had rallied around Echo. Bella took one of Echo's reins; Liornung and Argeleafa rode to Echo's near and off side; and coming up on Echo's flank, Ædegard gave a stern warning, and then the flat of his hand landed, smack, on Echo's rump.

They caught up shortly thereafter. The rohirrim did not stray from Mellondu's side til they made camp; nor did Mellndu care for Echo alone, not that night, nor many nights thereafter.

[littlemanpoet]

"You see, Raefindan," said Maegeleb, who still walked ahead of him, "it is not so with Elves as with Men. We do not need the - what is your word? Ah, yes - mechanisms that you need. Once we know how something is done, we can achieve it by the power of our will, especially that which has to do with thought."

"Aren't we special."

"Roy Edwards, I am disappointed. Where is your nobility? Where your sunny disposition, as you call it?"

"I am your slave. They are the only things that could escape to freedom."

"You are not yet my utter slave. But that shall be rectified. Now." Maegeleb turned and faced him. Roy felt his mind invaded. Then nothing.

"You are asleep. Open your eyes. Good. Tell me your name."

"Roy Edwards."

"Where are you from?"

"Erie, Pennsylvania."

"What year is it?"

"Two thousand four."

"Do you know where you are?"

"No. Yes."

"Tell me where you are."

"I am in Anorien of Gondor."

"How did you get here?"

"I don't know."

"Walk in a circle around me." Maegeleb watched as the redheaded man did as he was told. This is good. Very good. Men will be easily turned. Elves, not so. But so many Men against two or three Elves? Maegeleb smiled. And Nimrodel herself? She and her serving maid can be made to believe whatever I wish. His smile widened and his eyes burned with a feral brightness.

[mark12_30]

As they made camp, Ædegard explained much regarding horses and their habits to Mellondu. Ravion cared for Gond, chatting with Erundil, and occasionally speaking with Aeron. Meanwhile Mellonin was left alone with her thoughts, which did not make her happy.

The pair that caught her attention was the Wayfarer lad and the Gondorian lass. Why the Gondorian lass walked with the Rohirrim she did not know, and what interest she found in the young wayfarer puzzled her. She watched them for a while. As they cared for their horses, Bella saw Mellonin staring. Bella smiled, and Mellonin smiled in return.

They joined her when their horses were settled. Mellonin studied the Wayfarer lad, puzzled by his easterling features and his elvish dress. Bella spoke. "You have met Nethwador."

Mellonin nodded. "Hello."

"Mae... Gonvannen?" he replied.

"Sindarin. Very nice. I did not know the Wayfarers spoke our tongue."

"Nay, but the elves have taught him a little, " Bella answered. "Nethwador was taught by the plains and the wild, else."

"I thought the Wayfarers were a tribe, " Mellonin frowned.

"Amroth said he found Nethwador quite alone, but for his horse, " Bella answered.

Mellonin studied Bella next. "I have heard others mention Amroth, but Mellondu will not speak of him, " Mellonin said.

"Oh, if only Mellondu would welcome Amroth back. I do not know what will become of him now, " Bella said.

"Where did he go?" Mellonin asked, puzzled. "Did my brother send him away?"

"Mellon Amroth!" said Nethwador.

"Your pardon?" Mellonin wondered.

"Yes, I am afraid that he did, " Bella replied. "I think your brother was quite angry with Amroth, for your sake. I am not sure that I understand why."

"Wasn't all that talk about the mad blacksmith related to Amroth? But my brother is not mad, as you see; he was merely lost. What did it all mean?"

"Perhaps, " said Bella, "you should sit down."

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Mellonin brushed snow from a log and took her seat there. Bellyn sat next to the young lady, and Nethwador stood by, watching.

“You asked what it all meant,” Bellyn reminded Mellonin. When she nodded, Bellyn sighed and glanced over her shoulder at Mellondu-Amroth. “Maybe I am not the best person to ask, because it still confuses me some as well.”

Mellonin said naught, but followed Bellyn’s gaze to where her brother spoke with Ædegard. Bellyn recognized the look in Mellonin’s eyes. She knew of the worry and doubt. Bellyn hated how often she had felt helpless since leaving home – she felt a lonely onlooker who could no sooner help her friends than help herself.

“I could tell you all I know, though,” Bellyn said, hoping to relieve Mellonin from some of the invisible weight on her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Mellonin murmured softly, turning back to look blankly at Nethwador as she waited for Bellyn to speak once more.

“When I left home, it was with Liornung, and indeed to search for some mad blacksmith,” Bellyn started, sifting through her memories to decide which would be most important to Mellonin. Still unsure, Bellyn ran a finger through the layer of powdery snow on the ground. “On the way we met Ædegard, and we quickly found the mad blacksmith. The one you call Mellondu – the one who is your brother. He called himself Amroth when we first met him.” Bellyn paused, trying to figure where she should continue.

“I do not understand,” Mellonin cut in.

“Amroth…Mellondu…they are the same, I think,” Bellyn tried to keep her voice calm for Mellonin’s widening eyes. “One and the same, and yet not so. Amroth seeks his betrothed; Amroth seeks Nimrodel. Mellondu…I know not why he has returned.”

“Returned?” Mellonin questioned.

“I think Mellondu searched for you,” Bellyn answered. “Then his quest became Amroth’s. He came back when we were taken – taken by those things, those merlocks. I know not why he pushed away the mind of Amroth.”

“What are you trying to say?” Mellonin asked again.

“Mellon Amroth!” Nethwador repeated.

“Your brother was never crazy or mad,” Bellyn murmured. “But he was lost. He was lost to Amroth – lost to the strength of Amroth. I know not when Amroth will return. Now that your brother is found, it is Amroth who is lost, I think.”

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung was smiling as he absently listened to Bella's tale. He knew it already, but he enjoyed to here her sweet young voice relating what had happened, and how. Her tones were mostly indifferent, as if she had not experienced all that she was telling, but when she spoke of the merlocks there was the slightest little catch in her voice, and he saw that that memory was still near to her.

Yes, he listened to her, but not keenly. His attentions were fixed mostly upon Nethwador. He was watching the young wayfarer boy, and trying to pretend he wasn't. What devotion the silent boy had for that slim young girl perched upon the log. He looked at her adoringly, longingly. Would he be made happy? Would he gain the desire of his heart that only Bella could give him... Bella herself?

"You tell the tale well, sweet Bella," said Liornung, when she had finished. "It is always a welcome thing when I can sit and listen, rather than speak myself. It's a rare day when it comes."

"I fear I haven't explained clearly enough," said Bella.

"You explained it better than I could," said Liornung, "and the thing itself is so wondrous that even a master of tales could not make it wholly clear." He smiled, first at Bellyn, and then at Mellonin. "It does my old eyes good to see you two fair maids sitting together. You, Bella, have been caught up between the Rohirric and the wayfarers, and it has been a long while since you have seen one of your own kind."

"I did not mind it," said Bella. "What did it matter to me if you were Rohirric? You have been as good and loyal to me as any of my own kind."

"Maybe so," said Liornung, colouring under her kind words, "but you cannot say it is not sweet for you to meet another from Gondor. And I, Miss Mellonin, am pleased to meet another. I have learned from sweet Bella more than I have from others in all my travellings, that Gondorians are fair and kind. I have no doubt of finding you so also, and, ah! but it is a fine thing to see our company growing greater... I hope we shall also grow greater in friendship."

He spoke slightly absently, for he was again thinking of Nethwador, and this time with a face lacking in some worry. Bellyn did not seem to mind that the members of the company Rohirric, Gondorian, wayfarer, or Elf... perhaps there was some larger hope for Nethwador than it had previously seemed.