Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

"Nethwador?" Mellonin glanced around, and then sighed. "His horse is gone. Well, since the danger is here with us, I will not fear for him."

"Nevertheless," said Roy, "too many of our number have wandered off. Incidentally, where is Jorje? I haven't seen him with anyone."

"Jorje!" Mellonin's eyes went wide. "I have not seen him either! Not since we left Marigold!"

"Marigold? Who is that?"

"She was an old woman who lived just outside the Entwash swamp. Well, she was not just an old woman. I wonder if Jorje stayed with her?"

"You stayed with this old, not old woman?" Roy asked.

Mellonin looked at Roy a long moment, then laughed quietly a moment, shaking her head, looking to the snow covered ground. "We do not know what she is. I think, did she say, mayhap, she was a Riverdaughter? I know not."

Roy stared into the fire.

"What are you thinking, Raefindan?" Mellonin asked.

"That I should go to her and Jorje and recuse myself from this quest."

"Re.... coos?" Mellonin shook her head. "To chirp like a pigeon over again? I do not understand you."

Roy allowed a small smile and faced her. "It is one of the reasons I should go to this Marigold. It means to remove myself, for my presence is unhelpful to the quest."

"Unhelpful! How can you say that?"

Roy regarded Mellonin with eyes as sad as she had ever seen from him. "I cannot tell you. If I did, it would make things so much the worse."

[alaklondewen]

This was madness. The company was finally on the right track…they find the lost man, capture his captor, and the incompetent mortals scatter like gnats. Erebemlin glared at the swamp elf. What evil will he work among the weak minded? He thought, keeping his mind closed to the other elf. Tharonwe had come to them too easily, too soon, and although he appeared docile, Erebemlin knew danger still lurked within the walls of his being. He wished, at this moment, that Amroth would return. His kingly wisdom was needed.

~*~*~

The darkness that lay over the plains that night were thick, and the moon’s light was hidden behind the gorging snow-filled clouds. Taitheneb stepped gracefully atop of the snow-covered ground with leaving only the slightest footprint. Straining his ears he listened for the young women, but unfortunately he heard naught but the soft voices from the camp. He wondered what would have made them leave the safety of the fire’s light, especially after all of the events of the last days. Do the human’s learn nothing? Their actions were foolish, much like Erebemlin has said in the past. Taitheneb wondered if he should have listened to the Silmaethor instead of pitying him.

As he thought this, the sound of a horse’s breath came from his right. The elf squinted into the darkness and could see the creature and his rider arcing around toward him. Taitheneb stood still, waiting silently until the horse was near.

Young brother, why do you roam so far from camp?

The horse came to a halt, and the young rider moved his head from side to side staring uncertainly into the night. Taitheneb moved so that he could be seen by the boy, and repeated his question. As he came closer, the elf caught the troubled, hurt expression on Nethwador’s face. His dark eyes glistened with moisture. What troubles you, Mellon? As the elf touched the boy’s mind, the only image that came to him was the young girl and the name…Bella.

[mark12_30]

Tharonwe: "You forget the keenness of Elvish ears, Roy Edwards."
Mellonin: "He is Raefindan."
Tharonwe: "Nay, that is the name you gave him. He is called Roy Edwards."
Raefindan straighten where he sat and said, "Maegeleb, do not-"
Tharonwe: "He is from the future, dear Mellonin; he will not be born for thousands of years yet."
Raefindan: "Say no more, Elf!"
Tharonwe: "He dreams us." At this, Tharonwe's face took on an ironically amused expression. "Is that not the greatest necromancy you have ever heard? He dreams us. What think you of that, dear Mellonin?"


********** mark12_30's post*********

With a snort Mellonin tossed her head, shaking the wisps of dark hair out of her eyes. "I think you lie, Swamp-Elf. Why should I believe such tales from one so bereft of honor? Raefindan, heed him not."

She stood and studied the swamp-elf, and her lips twisted as she fought the temptation to spit. Finally she tossed her head again, and then extended her hand to Raefindan. "I want you to properly meet my brother, Mellondu. Come now."

Raefindan seeing this spark of the old Mellonin returning, smiled despite himself. Mellondu heard his name, and smiled wryly. He knew who Raefindan was, but there had been little time for courtesies, and they could not move on til the others were brought back to camp. Despite Raefindan's newfound shyness, Mellonin would not be gainsaid, and the three sat in a little circle. Raefindan need not have worried; Mellonin's chief concern was that Raefindan be pleased with her brother, and she told many tales of his goodness, kindness, loyalty, and gentleness. Mellondu and Raefindan listened, Mellondu chuckling now and then.

Mellonin resolutely kept her back to the swamp-elf. But Mellondu and Raefindan kept an eye on him, and Erebemlin noticed. The towering elf turned a cold glance on Tharonwe, and muttered, "Thankfully not all these mortals are witless fools."

Mellonin's tales continued til they were interrupted by her own yawn.

Erebemlin spoke. "Tomorrow we must ride south. More horses are needed, but til we find them, we must take turns running alongside. Sleep now while you may."

Mellondu glanced at Tharonwe, and Erebemlin nodded at him. The elf would stand watch, then.

Mellondu rolled over, and thought it strange that Erebemlin stood guard at his feet. It made him uneasy, at first, and he wished more than once that the tall elf would stand somewhere else. But weariness caught up with him now and again; he dozed fitfully.

Mellonin stretched out on Mellondu's left, and Raefindan on Mellondu's right. Nearby they heard Ædegard breathing softly, Aeron snoring, and Liornung muttered the words to some old song in his dreams. Erebemlin stood staring at Tharonwe, who smiled, and lay back to watch the stars. So the darkness passed, with little rest.

[Orual]

Ravion followed Erundil as he hacked through the winter's dead branches and brush with his sword, cutting a path for them. "Do you see anything?" the older Ranger asked quietly, and the chilly wind almost carried away his voice.

"I see nothing," Ravion said dully, wrapping his cloak around him. "And night is falling fast. The young women could be anywhere; would that someone had seen them leave!"

"If someone had seen them leave, we would not be here at all," Erundil replied curtly. "And if all had gone as I would have preferred, looking back on things, I probably never would have come to tell you about the blacksmith. So we cannot all have our ideal circumstances."

Ravion stopped short. "Are you blaming me?" he asked.

"What?" Erundil had not heard him over the wind, which had picked up. It bit through Ravion's cloak, but he hardly noticed.

"I said, are you blaming me for all of this?" Ravion kept pace with Erundil, glaring at him. Erundil stopped for a moment, then sighed and continued on.

"We can argue after we find the ladies," Erundil said wearily. Ravion opened his mouth to let out a retort, but closed it. Erundil was right: the important thing was finding their missing companions.

"Bellyn?" Ravion called. "Argeleafa?"

Erundil joined in his cry. "Bellyn! Leafa! Are you there?"

"Bell--" Ravion began, but Erundil clapped a hand over his mouth. Ravion frowned, confused, and Erundil lowered his hand, motioning for him to be quiet.

"Do you hear it?" Erundil said quietly. Ravion shook his head and squinted. "On the wind. Voices."

Ravion nodded slowly. "I hear it."

"Can you track it?"

Ravion nodded again, shrugging his pack back onto his shoulder. "Follow me." He took off at a run, Erundil following him closely.

The girls' voices were becoming more and more clear through the wind, and Ravion knew that he was going the right way. Perhaps finding Bella and Leafa would be, in some way, a balance for his earlier failures.

"Bellyn?" he called. "Leafa!"

The voices stopped, and Ravion kept coming, Erundil right behind him. "It is Ravion! Can you hear me?"

[mark12_30]

Far, far away, he heard a voice calling. He could not reply.

"My lord."

He knew the voice... did he not? His hair strayed in the current, sometimes covering his eyes. He could see, dimly, but he could not breathe, could not move his arms or legs, could not turn his head. He was cold, very cold. He lay on the bottom, buried in mud, only his face showing.

"My lord."

I can hear you. Why can I not see you?

"I am here, my lord. I will not leave your side."

Erebemlin! Friend, why do my limbs move not?

"Courage, my lord. Courage. "

If he closed his eyes, the mud only grew colder. He stared, trapped and unmoving in the sucking grip of death. He longed to give in and die indeed, but the voice of his friend stayed him, and he listened again.

Beyond Erebemlin, he heard a thin sound... a mocking laugh. The warm south wind was somehow icy cold; he was drenched to the skin. The ship surged from the storm... he was stiff and unmoving and could not respond; he fell. He looked up through the water as he sank, and saw his love on the deck, and the mocking elf-sailor standing beside her.

He sank like a stone to the muddy bottom... cold, ice-cold mud. It wrapped around his feet, his body, sucking him down til only his face felt the current. His hair moved in the water, waving to and fro over his eyes.

"Courage, my king."

His lips tightened into a hard line. His will grasped Erebemlin's presence, and did not let go.

[Nurumaiel]

Leafa, sitting with her hands clasped in front of her knees, trying to refrain from shivering, stiffened, and stood. She put one hand in the air. "Listen!" she said, and strained her ears. She heard the wind blowing, but that was all. She sat down again and bowed her head. "I thought I heard voices," she said, "but it seems I did not."

There was a silence, and then Bella cried out: "I hear voices as well, Leafa!"

"Is it the Elf?"

The two of them stood listening, and at last Bella let loose a relieved laugh. "No, it is not. I think it is one from our company," she said. She turned her eyes to Leafa. "Would you risk it? Should we call to them?"

"I think they are calling our names," said Leafa, as if in avoidance of the question. She paused for a moment, and then she nodded. "Yes, let us call to them," she said. "If it is the Elf, he would surely find us anyway. But if it is not he, they might pass us by for our lack of reply."

And so the two began to call to the voices in the wind for aid.

+++++++++++

Liornung sat up, and folded his arms. He had slept soundly for some time, trusting that the men of Gondor would find the two lassies. But he had dreamt of them, and had become restless. He began to regret that he had not gone in search of them himself. But, of course, that was folly. He was no skilled tracker, and would be a hindrance. It was merely his love for the two girls that brought on his regret.

He stood up and wandered a little way from the group, stopping for a moment to take up the case containing his fiddle, and gazed towards the east. It would not be long, he hoped, before the sun rose. It would be an easier task to find the maids then.

He took his fiddle from its case, and looked thoughtfully at it. How old and battered it was becoming! There were scratches and dents upon it. He had owned it for many a year, and often he considered laying it aside in some safe place and taking up a new one. He could give it to his nephew in Edoras, who had a deep interest in music. And he could get himself a new instrument, clear and shining, with no marks of wear and weather.

He put the bow very gently to the strings, and played a quiet note. Then he laughed softly and shook his head. No, of course he would not give this fiddle away for a new one. No more than he would exchange Leafa or Bella for another young girl.

"You have been with me too long, dear friend," he said. "You have worked your way into my heart, though you are a creature with no life in you. Nay... no life? Sometimes I think you could play of yourself. You have wisdom that even I have not. Long after I have forgotten the tunes from distant lands, you still remember them. When my fingers set upon you they are bewitched and move at your command. Often I have heard it said that with you I cast a spell over the people to make them dance and weep, but it is you who cast the spell on them, and on me. You have been comfort in sorrowful times, and my laughter in the joyous."

He played a few more notes, very softly, conscious of the sleepers a little ways behind him. The melody that gently strained out was a strange one, not of Rohan. As his fingers moved lightly here and there, the words were recalled to his mind, and he remembered the one time he had seen the sea. The music he played now contained those sights and thoughts, those wonderings. In the tune there was the pounding of waves against rocks, the cry of the gulls overhead, the spraying foam, the salty breezes...

"Darkness steals o'er the day
and chases merry clouds away.
The gulls above do glide and fly
and o'er the sea their lonesome cry.

"A cloud of thunder rides swiftly there
and brings a chill bite to the air.
A lightning flash, and then again;
and upon the sea a drop of rain.

"The waves did rise, the gulls did flee
and left the storming speedily.
O'er the sea, from the cry
a gull gave one more rising cry.

"A battered ship leapt on the foam
and struggled on to reach the home
where children laugh and fires roar
and spinners spin a tale of lore.

"A flash of lightning comes again
and in the sky a crack does rend.
The ship moves on; its timber groans
and all the men heave frightful moans.

"'Our home, our land, we'll see no more!
and reach the much sought after shore.
Our wives, our babes, for us will weep,
for we will sink into the deep.'

"'Come up, fear not! My men, be brave!
There is still hope to beat the waves.'
The captain stood, fearless and tall,
and they gazed upon him, one and all.

"'There is still hope, though it seems gone
and the sea does sing a dismal song.
But 'tis not our last song, this I know,
'tis not a tale of lasting woe.'

"'Though to your heart the fear does creep,
and your hearts, like the waves, do leap,
your deathbed will not be the sea;
hark, my men, and list' to me.'

"And even as the captain spoke
the clouds above his head were broke
the sun came out, bright and fair;
a cool breeze ruffled through the air."

Liornung stopped his quiet song, and looked discontentedly at the sky. It was still dark, and the men of Gondor had not returned. Was it so hard to find the maids? Then how far had they wandered? Where could they be? Morning was so long in coming! If the sun would but rise, Ravion and Erundil would have their task made easier, and the maids would be brought sooner back.

But still the darkness went on.

[littlemanpoet]

"With the three of you talking, only the dead could sleep," Ædegard growled to Roy, Mellondu, and Mellonin.

"Then plug your ears and sleep," Mellonin retorted. "Oh!" Her hand went to her mouth. "I am sorry."

The two caught a smirk on Ædegard's face in the dimming firelight. "Yes, this hamfist is a bit large for plugging an ear. I'll have to have you yank on mine ear to grow it large enough." He sat up and joined them. "Sleep stays far from you too?"

They nodded and stared at the fire.

Roy could not help himself, though he had resolved to speak as little as possible to the others so as to avoid influencing them with the future he brought with him. "Why, friend, are you so bent on leaving?"

Ædegard sighed. "I am no use to this group. I am too much the fool."

"We are all fools in our way," Roy said.

Ædegard looked at him in surprise. "You include yourself, yet you are the least foolish among us!"

Roy allowed a half smile. "It would be arrogance to withhold myself from the charge, for I know better. So foolishness is no reason to leave us."

Ædegard shook his head. "What would you have me do then?" He looked at each of them. Raefindan seemed unready to answer of a sudden. Ædegard looked to Mellondu and Mellonin, searching them for an answer.