Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[mark12_30]

Mellondu's smile faded, and his lips pressed together into a thin line.

"What of these last weeks?" He glanced down at Ædegard's hand even as Ædegard moved to cover it. Shaking his head, he looked to Minas Tirith.

"These last weeks. Busy? Busy leading my sister all over the west bank of the great river, in and out of swamps. Swamps haunted by dark elves and worse." He gave a snort of disgust. Mellonin tightened her grip around his waist, and he placed one hand over hers. "Nightmares sleeping, nightmares waking, and frightened parents worrying at home. Leafa, wounded. Your hand gone. And... the thief's sister, dead. Dead. And for what?"

Ædegard waited uneasily.

"I have wandered enough, and caused enough grief. It is time I went home, " said Mellondu.

Mellonin looked away, trying not to seem too satisfied or happy. Nevertheless his brother sensed her relief.

Minas Tirith beckoned, shining in the afternoon sun. One more day, perhaps two, and they would be home.

"You will come and meet my parents?" Mellondu asked Ædegard. "They have little room, but they would want to meet you, of that I am certain."

[mark12_30]

Mellondu waited for Ædegard's response, but the Rider seemed lost in thought, and the rythm of hoofbeats caused his own thoughts to wander. He let his gaze rove over the plains.

Behind him Mellonin sang softly.

Agony,
Can you cleanse this misery?
For never again will I breathe,
The air of home…


"Could you sing something more cheerful?" Mellondu said irritably.

"I like it. It's pretty, " she replied, with a tone of finality in her voice.

Usually he yeilded to that tone. But not today. "Please sing something else, " he said.

"Why?"

"I am not in the mood for that song right now."

"All right, " she said, annoyed. And for a while, she sang something else; but invariably, she wandered back to Bella's song.

The rolling sea breaks my revenge.
With each whisper – a thousand waves...

"So, " said Mellondu, turning to the young Wayfarer lass, "have you ever seen the White City?"

She shook her head, and muttered something inaudible.

The sun set, and they prepared camp. However Mellondu tried, he could not get Bella's song out of his head. He lay sleepless most of the night, glaring at the stars. When morning came he was exhausted. As he mounted and swung towards the White City, he muttered, "Once I find my old bed, I'm not leaving it. I will not leave the Pelennor walls!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tharonwe smiling, and he muttered again. "I'll be glad to leave that murderous rogue behind."

[littlemanpoet]

The winter sun was at mid-morning as they rode closer to Minas Tirith; they could see the highest towers far in the distance now.

"I did not mean to leave you without an answer for a whole day, my friend," Ædegard said to Mellondu the next morning. "I am eager to seek out Leafa's father, and truth be told, I had been hoping for your word that this -" he forgot once again what he had been about to say. "- that it was time go part ways."

Mellondu frowned. "If that is your will."

"Nay! I would be honored to meet your folks. Is that not so, Leafa?"

[mark12_30]

Nethwador glanced at Mellondu, who seemed particularly gloomy and irritable. How different he was from Amroth!

Perhaps Amroth will never return.

It was a sad thought. He disliked it, and tried to fight it. But it came to him again and again. Nethwador sighed.

He thought of Bella, and that cheered him. Her arms were around his waist. Sometimes she laid her head on hisshoulder, and then he trembled with joy. Bella was not irritable or gloomy; she smiled a lot. Her smiles were uncertain, but as sweet as ever. He turned to her for reassurance, speaking softly. "Nethwador mellon Bella. "

Bella smiled at him.

He spoke again. "Nethwador mellon Amroth."

Her smile faded. She whispered sadly to him. "Nethwador, what if Amroth does not return?"

His eyes grew wide as his stomach sank. Placing one hand over hers, he tried to shake off the uneasy feeling. What if it was true? What if Amroth did not return? Nethwador missed the King. He tried to remember what Amroth's company had been like. But the memory that came was the Merlocks. He shuddered, and gripped Bella's hand more tightly.

She must be kept safe. he had been terribly careless, leaving her. He would not leave her again.

[littlemanpoet]

Leafa had given her demur assent to Ædegard's query. From then until sunset, all of them traveled in silence except for mumured conversation between each pair on horse.

As the sun set they came into a new settlement a day's ride out from Minas Tirith. It was a little crowded place on the road between Minas Tirith and Edoras, just at the northeastern toe of the White Mountains. The gate they passed through named the settlement, Forodway, which was an odd admixture of Eldaran and Common, meaning North Way; which was true enough. There was an inn there, the sign over which bore the outline of four diminutive two-legged smiling figures, arm in arm and mugs in hand; about the outline was painted in white, "The Four Merry Halflings". They rode in, staked their horses before the stables, and went inside to a bustling, crowded common room.

[littlemanpoet]

"The Four Merry Halflings" was the name on the sign outside. Not a hobbit to be seen anywhere. Yes, it was a fete of praise toward the Four Famous Perinnath through whom it was said the War had been won, but it seemed somehow empty to Raefindan. Not that the room was empty. For such a small town, its status as a new crossroads village meant that there were passers-through constantly, on some king's business or for trade ... or thievery.

Roy sat at table with the other humans; the Elves did not deign to sit with them, choosing instead to remain under the stars. Erebemlin had said that he did not want Tharonwe at loose amongst the easily swayed crowd within. Maybe so.

Thinking of thievery set Roy to thinking of Aeron. What had become of him? And why had Erebemlin written the boy off? Because he is more trouble than the looking after him is worth. Those were not the exact words of Erebemlin, but it was his meaning. Raefindan thought it harsh, unmerciful, pitiless. Maybe Aeron deserved such treatment, but what of that? Had not the recent War revealed the merit of mercy.... even to one such as that Gollum creature?

And what difference have you made, Roy Edwards, since you joined this quest or whatever it is? He heaved a sigh. Too much difference, truth be told, and that was the problem. He was not of this place and time, and he needed to keep from influencing the others. He sighed again. Mellonin noticed.

"What is the matter, Raefindan?" she asked. "You have barely touched your food and drink."

"I am not hungry," he replied. He tried, and failed, to smile. He frowned and rose. "I'm going outside. I need some fresh air."

"Do you want someone to go with you? To talk?" Mellonin asked.

"No, thanks."

He left the common room and went outside. His breath made vapor on the air. He wondered where the three Elves were; but not so much as to go seek them out. The stars were cold and distant. It was disturbing how he could recognize them. Millions of years it takes to change the map of the sky, he considered. The restlessness within did not wane. He began walking, and found himself at the northern edge of the village, just inside the gate.

Jorje was a few days' ride that way, as was this Marigold they spoke of. He wished he could have met her, spoken with her. Maybe she could have provided answers, or at least clues, to his recent experiences.

A man came out of a booth sitting at the side of the road, and walked up to him, nodding amiably.

"Greetings, friend! Do you wait for someone?"

"Nay, friend. I was just walking, and found myself here."

"Staying at the Hobbit Hole?"

Roy grinned. So the inn already had a nickname. He liked the nickname better than the original. "Yes."

"Best be moving along back there. The night will be getting cold, I wager, and though safe enough in these days of the King, one never knows what rascals may be just beyond these walls after dark."

"Is it that late already?"

"'Tis close to the middle of the night. Most honest folk are abed already, though the same cannot be said for the many travelers who pass through; seems they take this place as a chance for their follies."

Roy smiled. "Well, I'm in no mood for follies this night. I think I'll make my way back to the Hobbit Hole and warm up a bed."

"Good night to you then."

Roy waved goodnight and made his way back to the inn. They had been shown their rooms early, and he knew which bed awaited him. He was soon in bed, and though he had not thought it likely, was soon asleep.

"You have come again at last!" The dark haired woman rose from the lawn carpet in the midst of the garden, and looked up to him, standing at the edge of the lawn. It was Mithrellas. "Imrazôr, what has kept you away?"

"I am not-"

She was suddenly wroth. "Do not say you are not he! I can see with my own eyes that you are! What has kept you away?"

"I do not know."

"Come to me!"

The love in her eyes should have drawn him to her, but he did not know her except in dreams. How could she mistake him for her love? Nevertheless, it could not do great harm to walk toward a dream ... could it? He approached her.

She looked into his face, her red lips curved into a smile. She extended her hands toward him, and not able to think of a good reason not to, he reached his hands up toward hers as he approached, and their hands clasped. The soft warmth of her skin beneath his shook him, for with her touch, memories flooded into his mind, and with them, his heart opened to her, for she was in the most precious of those memories.

She smiled. "You remember at last."

"I do. You are ... my love!" His words came out in a breath; but he was troubled, for he was aware of himself at once as Imrazôr, and as Raefindan, and as Roy Edwards. Had he been Imrazôr in truth? Or was this only a dream? If he had come back to life as Roy, then come to Gondor again as Raefindan, did he not have to be an Elf? Or was the Law all changed after the passing of the Ring? He shook his head, unable to do a thing with all the confused questions running through his mind. Of one thing he was suddenly sure. He did love Mithrellas, and was happy to be near her.

"Come this way, my love," she said, and led him to a clear pool, the moon shining bright and full above them; it had been a new moon as he had walked in the new town. He peered over the edge, and saw himself; not the face of Roy Edwards, or of Raefindan, which two were basically the same. He was Imrazôr.

"Then I must be dreaming."

"What of that?" she replied. "It does not change the truth of what is."

His eyes opened suddenly. It was quiet. And dark. The other men were sleeping in other beds in the room, some snoring gently. Dreaming does not change the truth of what is?" If that is so, then what?

[littlemanpoet]

The group had gotten up with the dawn, broken their fast, readied their mounts, and were trotting across the plain toward Minas Tirith before the sun had gotten much higher than the Ephel Duath.

Dreaming does not change the truth of what is. If that is so, then what? The question had been on Roy's mind all morning. Mithrellas meant that though I was dreaming that I was with her, it did not change what happened between us in the dream. And it had happened. Somehow he was Imrazôr; at least to Mithrellas. Well, no. Roy didn't accept relativistic nuances. Either a thing was, or it wasn't; one could not have it both ways just by choosing to believe or not. Mithrellas was real. And the memories that were still with Roy, of himself as Imrazôr, husband of his beloved Mithrellas, were real. So apparently he actually had been Imrazór. The thought crowded his head with cottony confoundment. It could not be! It had to be! How could it be? As easily plum the depths of unified field theory! Roy shook his head fretfully.

"What is the matter, Raefindan?" asked Mellonin, her arms wrapped around her brother; they rode just a little behind and to his right.

"Oh, I had a dream. I'm trying to make sense of it."

"Tell me. Maybe I can help."

Roy screwed up his face. "I need to think on it some more before I speak of it."

"As you wish." She looked disappointed.

Roy smiled. "I promise to tell you before anyone else."

She grinned and clapped Mellondu's belly since her arms were not long enough to reach around her brother and clap.

"Use me for a drum, will you," Mellondu grated amiably. "I have been within earshot of your promise, and so must claim first right with my sister."

"As you will, Mellondu," Roy smiled, and fell silent again.

If last night's dream was real, maybe I have made too much of Tharonwe's word that I am dreaming this quest with Mellonin and the others. What if he is as right as Mithrellas, despite his motives? Maybe this is just as true and real as last night's dream! In which case, maybe I am here and now for a reason; and if so, it must be the same reason as my dream of Mithrellas! The cottony confoundment gave way to sudden clarity, as if a thunderclap had provided an exclamation point to a downpour, leaving everything fresh, cleansed of all confusion.

Amroth and Nimrodel!

That is the whole reason why I am here! It must be!

"What?" Mellondu was looking at him, curious; Roy had been staring at him for the last few seconds. He urged his horse closer to Mellondu and Mellonin.

"Let me tell you about my dream." He related it to them.