Friends Of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams, Part 2 RPG

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The south gate of the Pelennor was only five miles south of the city, and they reached it quickly. The guards sent them through with kind words, and once outside the gate, they mounted. The South Road stretched before them.

Erebemlin studied Mellondu silently; Mellondu glared at him in defiance. Erebemlin led; Mellondu rode second; Nethwador joined Taitheneb, and nearby on his faithful bay rode Ædegard. Liornung, Ravion, Raefindan, and Aeron brought up the rear. Liornung chatted with Raefindan, explaining what the horse needed to know, and Raefindan did the best he could.

Ravion waited for Aeron to ask for advice; Aeron chatted about many other things.

Every now and then, Nethwador glanced over his shoulder, but not at the men. Once in a while, Aeron felt the hair stand up on the back of his own neck. He had all but forgotten about his sister while they had been passing through the South Gate, and he berated himself for it. He wondered at the occasional chill, and blamed it on the weather.

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They rode til an hour before sunset, and then Erebemlin halted the company near a wide field on the western side of the road. He bid them dismount.

Ravion's brow creased. "Erebemlin, why do we halt now?"

Erebemlin responded with a raised brow, and then turned to Mellondu. "Make camp, then string your bow."

Archery lessons. The elf had not forgotten, thought Mellondu grimly. Now to make a fool of the blacksmith in front of the entire company! There was little to do for making camp, and it was quickly done. Taitheneb and Erebemlin stood waiting off to one side. Mellondu walked warily toward them; but he was not alone. Ravion and Raefindan followed him, their bows strung as well. Raefindan fumbled a bit with his arrows.

"What shall we aim for?" Ravion asked. He doubted an elf would suggest shooting at a tree, and anyway there were few in this field.

"Your arrow will not fly today, " replied Erebemlin.

Raefindan and Mellondu exchanged puzzled glances, but Ravion stepped forward eagerly. "Tell me what to do."

Taitheneb smiled. Erebemlin stepped back; his attention was reserved, apparently, for the blacksmith. But Taitheneb strode to Ravion, and the lessons began. The three men stood in a line, Raefindan and Mellondu watching closely as Ravion made tiny adjustments to his grip, to his stance, to his shoulders and his arm.

"Choose an aimpoint. Then close your eyes, draw, and hold."

Ravion stood stock-still, eyes closed, bow drawn. Taitheneb waited, and waited, and waited, til Ravion began to tremble with the strain.

"Open your eyes."

Ravion grunted in disappointment, and Taitheneb told him to move his feet.

What this all had to do with actually hitting something, Mellondu could not yet guess, but he was grateful that Ravion had stepped forward. When Taitheneb finished with Ravion, Ravion was weary, but bemused and happy, carefully twitching certain muscles while muttering under his breath.

Raefindan's lesson begain the same way, but did not follow the same pattern; Raefindan blushed and fumbled and gritted his teeth, muttering something about wasting the elves' time.

Taitheneb smiled. "We do not count time as you do, " he said. "Choose your aimpoint. Not that far! Much closer. There. Now close your eyes." Raefindan trembled far more quickly than had Ravion. "Now open your eyes, and look!"

Raefindan spluttered. "Miles away! I'd miss by a mile!"

"Nay, no more than fifteen yards, " replied Taitheneb, his shimmering laughter falling like rain. "Move your feet, thus. Again. Close your eyes."

Mellondu glared at Erebemlin. You will mock me, he thought. You will make a fool of me.

Taitheneb finished with Raefindan, and then looked expectantly at Erebemlin. But Erebemlin did not step forward. "Mellondu, begin with Taitheneb."

How I dread this, thought Mellondu. Taitheneb's laughter was subdued, and soon subsided as the boy's fury seethed.

At least, thought Mellondu, I shall not shake as soon as the redhaired man. I am a blacksmith and thus no weakling. Perhaps I will hold my draw as long as the ranger.

As he closed his eyes, bent at the waist, and held his draw, a strange sensation tickled at the back of his mind. It took him a while to understand it. Taitheneb bade him move his feet, and he did so, and then closed his eyes again. He bent over into the draw. The wind stirred his hair, which shimmered gold in the sunset. He took a slow breath, thinking only of his aimpoint; nothing else mattered. Nothing. The aim-point shimmered before him, the only thing in the world. He could almost touch it.

"Do not let fly! Open your eyes. Let down," said Taitheneb.

Mellondu blinked; his stance was still too wide, his aimpoint off. He blinked again.

Taitheneb spoke softly. "Close your stance a little more. Shut your eyes. Draw."

He moved his right foot. He closed his eyes, breathing. He bent forward at the waist, like a ship leaning into the wind, like a deer poised to leap. He felt the eagerness of the bow, of the string, of the arrow. He drew. He held, leaning, still and strong as a tree, waiting... on his aim-point. Nothing else mattered. He knew only his aim-point.

Nothing else mattered.

"Open your eyes, " said Taitheneb.

He blinked.

"Enough, " said Erebemlin.

Mellondu slowly let down, put his arrow in his pouch, and stood, his bow still strung, gazing with clouded eyes at his aimpoint, long after the rest of them had gone back to camp.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

It started with large eyes.

The wispy black lines melted into one another, creating long locks of flowing hair.

Bellyn closed her eyes once more. She now drew from memory, something she rarely did. When her father had given her maps, he had told her to copy them neatly onto new parchment. When she had drawn fiddlers or landscapes or friends, she had set herself before them, to watch as she drew.

But the subjects of her artistry had left.

Sitting near the window of her sister-in-law’s home, Bellyn opened her eyes once more and continued the shading above Liornung’s brow. She had already drawn Nethwador and Mellondu – or Amroth, as she knew him – earlier that morning, and although she had attempted to sketch Erebemlin, she had stopped, for she felt she could not do his noble features justice.

“How long have you been awake, Bella?” Rosa clambered in, grasping within her arms a large basket full of thick, leafy plants.

“Perhaps an hour,” Bellyn replied as Rosa set the basket down. Rosa began to pick through the different plants.

“Hallas has not woken up yet?” Rosa asked, and Bellyn shook her head.

“I will make breakfast this morning,” Bellyn offered. “But then, would it be alright if I went for a walk?”

“Of course!”

Bellyn made breakfast, for Rosa and her son. She helped to clean up, and helped Rosa prepare the plants she had brought home so that they could be made into medicines. Early morning had long passed when Bellyn took to the streets of Minas Tirith. She strode quickly, through the gates to higher levels, until she approached the Seventh Star.

As she entered, her first thought was of how busy the Inn seemed. It was a hustle of activity, a flurry of busy work. Bellyn felt awkward, for she stood aimlessly for a moment with a blank look on her face, searching for Leafa.

“Leafa!” Bellyn cried as soon as she caught a glimpse of the long, fair hair and blue eyes. She approached her friend, and the two embraced.

“Bella! Come, sit here,” Leafa offered a stool.

“I feel rather silly right now,” Bellyn murmured. Her hazel eyes flickered around the room, not wanting to look at her friend directly.

“Why?” Leafa inquired.

“It has been less than a day. I already miss them. I miss them all, and I am already sick of being here, and doing nothing,” Bellyn sighed. “How are you, though? Where is Mellonin?”