Friends Of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams, Part 2 RPG

[Imladris]

Aeron closed his eyes and drew a ragged breath. "No, I don't know the girl. Just that she was lost, weeping, beset by shadows, and on the roadside." He stared at Raefindan. He didn't understand the man, only knew that he was misplaced here with his vibrant red hair. Yet he was wise, and caring. "Raefindan," he whispered, "it was so real. It could not have been just a dream."

Raefindan scratched his head. "It would be wise to tell Erebemlin of it."

"What?" Ask that elf, that cold distant elf who thought his precious was king was too precious to care about the humans? "Never."

"Aeron," said Raefindan gently, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder, "the elves are wise in such matters...it would be unwise to remain silent."

Aeron glared at Erebemlin who was watching the delay with impatience. Raefindan began to steer Aeron towards the elf by the arm. "Red!" Aeron snarled.

All too soon he found himself before the elf, who stared down at him. Aeron shivered and did not meet his eyes.

"What is the meaning of this delay? Every moment is precious."

Aeron stared at the ground, and only answered when Raefindan nudged him gently in the ribs. "I saw my sister," he muttered. "She was upset about a girl she saw on the road. She couldn't help her you see...maybe," he said, "we should keep an eye out for a lost little girl? Maybe that's what it meant," he went on eagerly, ignoring Erebemlin and turning towards Raefindan. "Maybe that's why I saw Gwyll, so that we would know to watch for a lost girl and then to help her when we found her!"

"It was a dream, nothing more. Mount your horses, we are moving on."

Erebemlin set a brisker, faster face that jarred Aeron to his bones. A dream? No. He closed his eyes. It couldn't have been a dream. The tears and pain had been real.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Bellyn felt her cheeks flush. Was it getting hotter? She felt warm.

"Ah, tea, I suppose?" Bellyn felt flustered as Mellonin nodded and went off to get her tea. Leafa sat down next to Bellyn, and touched her arm gently.

"Are you feeling well, Bella?" she asked, and Bellyn rubbed her temples.

"I...I feel strange. It is very hot in here," Bellyn replied, and Leafa's brows knit together in some mix of confusion and concern.

"Here, Bella!" Mellonin, her face cheerful and lighthearted, handed the cup of tea to Bellyn. "I hope you enjoy it...but if you will excuse me, I must get back to working!"

"Thank you..." Bellyn took a sip, and did not feel any better. Her skin prickled, and she felt a desperate need to walk outside into the bitter cold of winter. She put her cup down in front of her, and looked to Leafa. "Thank you for seeing me, Leafa. I just wanted to know that you were faring well. I hope you and Mellonin will come visit me sometime? I could show you where I am staying. But I am not feeling well now...the cold weather has likely made me sick, and I wish to get home before I feel worse."

"Of course! You will be alright getting home?" Leafa stood when Bellyn rose from her seat, and walked with her friend to the door.

"Yes, yes. I will see you soon, Leafa," Bellyn opened the door and smiled at the cool rush of air. She felt instantly relieved of the heat in her cheeks, though her head still ached. She hoped that Rosa would be able to make some kind of concoction to make her feel better.

[littlemanpoet]

Iorgil had been most helpful. He was sitting just outside Maegeleb's cell, as silently directed. He read the guard's mind while making small talk.

"What weather this day?"

"Calm but chill." The guard muffled a belch from supper.

He has been down to the Seven Stars Inn, as I suggested to his mind.

"You have eaten well, then?"

"Your pardon. Aye, well."

He has sat near enough to overhear the conversations of the women I held captive in the swamp.

"At the king's mess?"

"Nay. There's an inn on the fourth level. The Seventh Star they call it."

Maegeleb probed his mind. Humans were pathetic. There were the memories, each word and image clearly held in store, but Maegeleb knew that this man, if asked, would only be able to bring to speech a smattering of it. This way was much more efficient.

“Leafa!” An embrace. “Bella!” An invitation to sit.

"The ale must be passing fair judging by the breath with which you sour my cell."

"Aye, 'twas very good."

Less than a day. Already misses them. So the men have left Minas Anor. Sick of being here and doing nothing. Take care, a sure sign of intending to do something, like leaving Minas Anor as well.

"The least you could do was smuggle some in for me if you're going to fill my cell with vapors."

Iorgil shook his head. "Water for prisoners, that is all."

Where is Mellonin?” "Bella! Good morning! How fared you the night?" Slept well. Harder than she thought. Misses them. Pathetic humans.

"When do I get my day end meal?"

"You had it already."

Small talk of food and drink. Making such a big to-do about food and drink.

"I would like some more."

"You'll get no more."

"Are you feeling well, Bella?" The one named Bellyn seems on the verge of fever. What does that portend?

"Mind your manners. You speak to an elf lord."

"Lord or slave, a prisoner you are and one serving is enough. Orders."

Iorgil, you will go back to the Inn for breakfast and pay attention to these young women to hear and see what you can."

Iorgil stretched. "I think I'll go back there for breakfast. Looked like good food."

"You gall me with your talk of food, oh prison guard. You are most unkind."

Iorgil stretched again and yawned. "Be that as it may, lights out. I bid you a good night."

Maegeleb did not reply, but lay on his cot thinking things through long after the torch was extinguished.

[mark12_30]

An early morning, a long day, and a late night. And now to bed.

She was somewhat cheered to have Leafa nearby, and to have had a visit from Bella. Although truth be told, she barely knew them.

How she missed her brother, and how she missed Raefindan. And...

She pulled the covers up tightly around her chin, and squeezed her eyes shut.

How gentle he had been, lifting her chin with one careful finger, so that she had to look into his eyes. Those green eyes; like the leaves in August, rich and strong, shimmering, moving in the wind.

She opened her eyes, and shifted, and closed them again, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. Her hand, passing across her cheek, touched a place that was too smooth. Her scar. Only it wasn't a scar; it was baby-new skin. Marigold had treated her.

But before they had arrived at Marigold's house, Ravion had treated it first; cleaned it, salved it, and dressed it, all with that gentle touch, and with trouble and concern in those forest-green eyes.

She dreamt of woodlands, and trees, and loving eyes; healing hands, the caress of water; a golden voice, the laughter of the sun-filled stream. At first. But then the woods turned cold, and the leaves fell, and the more she looked for friendly eyes, the more she saw the sun glaring off the ice. She stumbled along in her dreams, her hand warding off the glare, her feet colder and colder, her hands stiffening. She struggled on, searching for the caring eyes, the cheering voice, the healing touch; the cold stones cut her feet, the ice tore at her hands, and the silence burdened her struggling heart.

[littlemanpoet]

As they rode south at a pace that was not in the least comfortable, Raefindan's eyes wandered from the mix of hurt and determination in Aeron's face, to the back of Erebemlin's head. He felt for Aeron. His instinct was to be angry with Erebemlin for his dunderheaded blindness.

It's one thing to be single mindedly committed to the purpose of your lord, Erebemlin; that's something I can personally relate to- Raefindan rehearsed the words in his mind that he doubted he'd ever actually say -but to dismiss another's dream out of hand because it doesn't fit with your agenda, is just plain foolish.

No, it wouldn't do to say that to Erebemlin. If he wouldn't listen to Aeron, he wasn't about to listen to Raefindan either; he would likely dismiss his words as the product of misplaced human sympathy. Would Erebemlin be accurate in that? Raefindan asked himself. No. Marigold had directed Aeron to cut a lock of Gwyllion's hair and keep it on his person so that the two would be bound to each other. That meant that Gwyllion was in fact likely to appear to Aeron in dreams, if not visions. Because of Marigold, Raefindan was convinced that Gwyllion's ghost was not far, had not yet traveled beyond the walls of the world. Marigold seemed to understand that the girl's purpose was not yet complete in Middle Earth. A sense of peace and contentment settled over Raefindan as he thought about this, for he was sure that Marigold's deed was part of a larger pattern, a weave, perhaps, that threaded all their actions, thoughts, and dreams together toward a purpose that none of them knew, and that the reuniting of Amroth and Nimrodel was only one small part of. Yes, this was the way things really worked; Raefindan had seen such things happen too many times to count to doubt his thought now.

"Never fear, Aeron, your dream is true, and we'll see how it weaves itself into the tapestry of our quest."

Aeron looked at him in some bewilderment. "How can you always be so cheerful and sure?"

Raefindan chuckled. It would be too hard to explain. "I think it best not to give you words to answer. Let us watch and wait, and see how the weave of events reveals the answer to your query."

Aeron looked even more confused now. "Weave of eve Ents? Reeve eels? Quarry? Raefindan, you're back to making no sense. Are there Ents that weave at dusk somewhere in southern Gondor? Eels that act like aldermen? And do I have a quarry?"

Raefindan laughed. "I'll try again. Let us see what happens, and your dream will find its meaning."

"That's better! But how that has to do with ents and eels and quarries I do not know!"

Raefindan laughed again. "Nor I! But let that be a lesson to me to take care of my words!"

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

As soon as Bellyn had gotten home, Rosa had tended to her with gentleness and a motherly concern. Bellyn had walked in from her visit to the Seventh Star, her forehead dotted with the occasional bead of sweat, but her arms shaking with chill.

Bellyn had not the wits about her to protest when Rosa offered her own bed. The blankets wrapped around her, she tossed and turned until afternoon became night. She did not sleep well. Bellyn woke every few hours, uncomfortably hot. After throwing off the blankets, she would return to slumber before starting to shiver. This cycle of feeling overheated or freezing continued through the night, as did Bellyn's strange dreams.

She thought she could feel her skin tingle, and she rolled over as images came flooding into her head. Her closed eyes flickered as she threw the blanket off again.

A woman, tall and elegant, stood before Bellyn. Around her, a beautiful forest stretched far into the distance. The leaves of the trees tumbled slowly, gracefully to the ground. For a moment, Bellyn lay still in her bed as the flawless scenery enveloped her dreams.

It did not last for long.

Suddenly, the dream flashed from the radiance of the forest to the melancholy of a rocky, desolate mountain pass. Far in the distance, as high as the gloomy grey skyline, Bellyn could see snow-capped peaks. The color washed away from the scenery, and the hue of the lady’s skin drained from her face. Her eyes no longer shone.

The lady whipped her head around, as if she had heard something.

“We will find Nimrodel, I know it,” said one voice.

“We cannot search forever,” complained another. The voices seemed to sound more and more distant with each word.

“We are here! We are here!” Dream-Bellyn tried to shout; not a sound came from her parted lips. Her screaming seemed to evaporate into the air. “We are here!”

The woman before Bellyn said nothing.

Bellyn awoke from her nightmare, sweating. Her eyes, sore from restless slumber, blinked rapidly to allow aching tears to fall. She looked to her left and saw her pack, the pack that she had brought all the way from Rohan to Gondor. Bellyn tried to calm herself but the beating in her heart continued at a rapid pace. She rolled out of Rosa’s bed, grabbed her pack, and left the house as quickly as possible, caring not if she woke her sister-in-law or her nephew.

Out into the chill air, Bellyn sped up into a run, moving down the streets frantically. Her destination was far enough away for the girl to regain her composure, to remember her senses and go home. Her heart and tired eyes hurt, but she had one thought in her mind: she had to find her horse, and she needed to find the woman.

She found the Seventh Star, and saw the nearby stables. Her horse would be there. She hoped it was not so late that the stables would be locked – Bellyn was quite uncertain of the time. But the doors were opened, and next to Leafa’s horse she found her own.

Within minutes Bellyn was out of the stables. Bellyn’s mind raced. She knew she had to leave Minas Tirith. The white peaks…the woman…it came together in an intricate mental map.

Bellyn had never tried to navigate on her own before. She had drawn map after map; the cities, the forests, and the rivers matched perfectly in her mind. Bellyn did worry how she would find the White Mountains, the snow-capped peaks she thought she had seen in her dreams. She hoped she did not get lost.

[littlemanpoet]

The river woman whistled from her two-leggeds' den. "Tirril!" she called in her sing-song way. "Jorje!"

Jorje lifted his nose from the ground and cocked an ear. He grinned. He liked the way the river woman used both his names. He kissed the air with his tongue and ran toward the den, panting and grinning happily all the way. She had human-hand-licked him and hand-nipped his ears right at the roots the way the best humans knew how to do.

"I have a running and hunting for you to do, Jorje Tirril."

Jorje sniffed at her reedy breath and glowy face. Running? Hunting?

"Remember Leaf woman and Dark woman and Man woman? I want you to find them."

What for? Bring them back?

"I want you to sniff out the dangers near and far in the high places and warn them."

She took his broad head in her two hands so that he was looking into her eyes. He did not like looking into the eyes of humans, for they were great and their eyes had things behind them he didn't know how to smell. Jorje knew that they couldn't smell the dog-sense he had behind his nose, but there was something great in humans behind those eyes of theirs, and it usually scared him; not with river woman though. He sniffed a difference in her, some way she had of smelling but not with her nose, so her eyes didn't scare him so much. He met her eyes now.

"Sniff out the strangers and tell the women if they be friend or fiend. Sniff for the bad elf, the one who ran the eermy ones back in the swamp."

Jorje remembered and almost retched right then and there. The river woman grinned.

"May the aroo go with you wherever you go. Be witty and sniff well, and may your paws be whole and may your legs run fast at need. Now go!"

She let go. Jorje was off at a gallop next instant. The ground flew by beneath his feet. After a little while he slowed his pace but his excitement stayed with him. The river woman had sent him on the hunt. He was glad to be running!