Friends Of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams, Part 2 RPG

[Formendacil]

Bergil's eyes widened slightly in terror as Indil broke down crying, but he stifled his fears for finding the child's family as he held her tight, letting her sob in his arms.

"There, there," he said soothingly. "You needn't worry about it, little one. Not right now."

How long had Indil been wandering the countryside, wondered Bergil, gazing up at the heavens, the sun nearly gone over the horizon. She was exhausted, and hungry. Well, the young ranger decided, something could be done about that, at least.

"Indil," he said quietly, holding her gently as he moved her from his shoulder to look her in the eyes. "Let's get you cleaned up, and then get you something to eat. Would that be okay."

Indil nodded slightly. Bergil picked her up, marvelling at how light the little girl was, and carried her over to his horse, and removed his waterskin. Spilling some of the contents over his hand, Bergil scrubbed Indil's face of the grime and tears, and pushed her hair out of her face.

"I hope you like travel provisions," muttered Bergil, more to himself than to Indil, but he had few fears there. Indil hadn't eaten in hours--or maybe days--and eagerly tucked into the waybread, cheese, and dried meat. Bergil ate little himself, his appetite sapped by concern for the girl.

Once Indil had finished eating, Bergil picked her up, and slung her over his saddle.

"We're going to look for somewhere to stay the night," he said to the terrified little girl, whose eyes were staring in terror at the mane of the great beast. Bergil quickly swung up behind her, and held her tight.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered, bending over her. He flicked the reins, and the horse trotted back towards the road, and they were off, the last rays of sunlight peering over the mountains. Indil fell asleep soon, slumped against him, his arm protectively wrapped around her.

Glancing down, Bergil wondered at the irony of his concern. Her thumb tucked comfortably in her mouth, and snuggled under his arm, Indil looked concerned for nothing, whereas he, the confident adult who knew who and where he was, was the one who was terrified for her future. What if he was taking her farther from her family? What if they never found her family? It was not a far-fetched idea, really.

It was several hours later and completely dark when Bergil finally stopped to sleep. His mind was still racing with questions, but his body and his steed were ready to sleep, and in a treed grove to the side of the highway, he was willing to attempt it.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

With Bergil's careful arms around her, Indil slept soundly for a time, blanketed in the gentle black fog of emptiness. Bergil watched her for a time as she lay still, her cheeks still blotched with tears and the sounds of a runny nose interrupting her shallow breathing. Wrapped in a blanket, she seemed even smaller, an impressive feat, and Bergil wondered suddenly if her father had watched her sleep thusly just last night, perhaps... But she did not know how long she had been apart from her parents, he thought. He would need to ask her that, and many other questions. Where had they been? Could she describe it? What did her parents look like, and what were their names... But for now, let the little girl sleep.

And she did, her thumb tucked in her mouth unconsciously. As Bergil watched, her eyelids began to quiver faintly, never opening.

'Mama!' and a glimpse of flowers fallen on a clean swept floor turning to dry dirt swept clear and a small fire. 'Mama, for you, but they fell.' and a spin through the air, strong hands holding her.

'Little Indil, pretty lass, run along and--"

The flowers are burning, and there is a voice in the mountains, cackling good morning to birdcall and cold wind.

She shivered in her sleep, curling tight.

'Why so long in coming for me?' Despair. A voice on the wind. Cold burning sunlight and deep nothingness inside. 'Why have you forsaken me?'

And a song and the flight of birds, playing over a cliff's edge, dancing on air, daring the fall to claim them, darting and singing, and there is the sound of humming. Of faint singing, of a song of flowers and seconds passing to the sound of silver chimes on wind.

'He will come.'

'Mama?'

A fire burns too high and there is running. The sound of panicked horses, of hooves on hard ground. A scream. A dull thud.

'Little Indil, where are you going?'

Indil woke with a scream, with darkness surrounding her, and through sleep and time, she felt ghost fingers tracing a phantom inquiry against her back, and for a long time after, even in Bergil's strong arms again, she could not sleep, and could not remember why.

[mark12_30]

Roheryn galloped, a steady mile-eating gallop, til he was past the North Pelennor gate. The guards gave the pair an odd look, but it was peace time, and if a woman chose to leave the Pelennor walls on horseback, they had no reason to forbid her. One guard gave the horse a searching look, but let him pass.

Back onto soft turf, Roheryn swung westward. He could feel his rider grow weary, and the wearier she grew, the more he slowed, til he turned southward into a dark wood nestled in the roots of the mountains. She slid off, wrapped herself in her cloaks, and fell into a deep sleep. He stood guard over her for a while, but there were no sounds of any pursuit, and before long he drifted off to sleep.

[littlemanpoet]

Ædegard missed Leafa. For the two dozenth time since they'd left Minas Anor, he wondered what good he might be on this quest that had little if anything to do with an Eorling wheelwright. But he had given his word to Bêthberry; well, he had not given his word, but it was as good as having been done, for he meant to see it through, whatever it was. It was the Eorling way. A song came to him out of the dust heap of his memories from childhood, sung by a wayfaring Eorling minstrel. He haltingly mumbled the words to a simple tune that it seemed to him had come with the words that first time.

Hear of a hero ~ in the days of Helm,
of Béoldric of Westfold ~ who walked the wilds
with scabbarded sword ~ at his side always ready;
for in the Long Winter ~ came lean wolves,
fierce and fell ~ on the rim of Rohan,
their eyes lit ~ with evil light
setting fear ~ in the stoutest folk.

Béoldric the bold ~ feared no foe,
nor warrior nor wolf, ~ orc nor woses,
and hied him upward ~ to the hills and heights,
snowcovered and slippery, ~ the wind slicing.
Night came so cold ~ that his cloak did nought
to hold at bay ~ the hoar from Béoldric,
the wind whirling ~ and howling like wolves.

"What song is that?" asked Raefindan.

"'Tis a song of the Eorlingas," answered Ædegard. "Somehow it helps to ward the chill to think of another who suffered it worse and failed not."

"Sing it again, if you please, from the start. I would hear it again for it sounded well to me."

"Well enough," Ædegard smiled, heartened, and sang it over again, and told more of the tale in song.

[mark12_30]

"Erebemlin, what if Aeron is right? What if Bella and my sister have left the city?"

"They were told to remain safe in the city. We cannot turn aside at every rumor, " said the golden elf.

Mellondu worried a while about his sister, and about Bella; and then he remembered how glad she was to be home, and how she had clung to their parents.

She would not have left.

He glanced sidelong at Aeron. What did he know about him? That the others regarded him with a cool eye. Hadn't he been called a theif? And hadn't he been off, gadding about, during their return to the city? He was surprised the fellow had come along anyway.

Who would his father trust first? he wondered. The elf. Both the elves. He took a deep breath, and reminded himself yet again that his sister had been so glad to be home, and how she had resisted the idea of his leaving.

No, she would not have left.

Ædegard began to sing, and it was a welcome distraction from his snowflurry of thoughts. He listened.

A tale at last. I have languished in spirit without them.

Mellondu looked at the thought, and wondered at it. He had thought that his languishing in spirit had little to do with tales or lack thereof.

And yet, the songs of Lady Bella had been soothing. More than soothing; they had been like wine; warm, peaceful, bringing completion and contentment to the fellowship they had all enjoyed. He wondered how Nethwador fared without her, how he felt about Aeron's story that she had left the city, and whether he was worried about her. Turning his head, he lightly touched the boy's thoughts. The boy's head snapped up eagerly.

My lord?

Mellondu's mouth tightened, his eyes flashed, and he dug his heels into Echo's sides. Echo started forward a few paces and jigged. Mellondu struggled with the reins, wishing he could turn and ride home, and find out whether Mellonin had left as Aeron said she had, and berating himself for being under a life-debt, unable to make his own decisions. He glowered at Erebemlin, slithering as Echo tossed his head. The tall elf gazed forward, with only a slight glance at Echo. Echo dropped his head, settled, heaved a long grunting snort, and then swung into line by Erebemlin's side.

Taitheneb and Nethwador traded hopeful glances, but Mellondu's back remained furiously stiff; for a while. But as, in hums or snatches, bits of Ædegard's song meandered through the company, Mellondu's back would sometimes soften. Then Echo's ears would flick forward, and a spring would return to his long stride.

[littlemanpoet]

Ædegard had finished his song, which told of Béoldric's fierce fight ~ with five wargs that had hounded him no matter how high he climbed, but had been starving and weakening while he had rations. Their hunger made their rage and fierceness the greater. Their greater number would otherwise have been his undoing, in foot-deep snow and no trees to escape into, but their starvation was his advantage, he outlasted them. Were they not Fell, it would be no great tale to tell, but they had the will of some foul servant of evil in them, and were cunning. They had wounded him and harried him before all five were killed.

To Ædegard's mind, the verse was half the song; without it the tale would seem less grand. Now that he was finished with it, he was uneasy, for he had heard Aeron's fearful warning and the murmurings about the women left behind. He coaxed his horse near to Aeron, and asked him the question that had begun to burn in his mind.

"Are you sure of this dream? What it a true dream, do you think? What of Leafa? Do you know if she went with them?"

[Imladris]

Aeron stared at Ædegard. "I don't know," he said softly. "Gwyll only mentioned Bellyn and Mellonin. I suppose that is good news though. She could be safe and sound. Or she could have rashly decided to go after her friends." His voice faltered and he shifted his glance away from Ædegard.

Ædegard remained silent and brooding.

Dark clouds gathered in the sky. A lone bird trilled a short tune.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aeron thought he saw Gwyllion, but when he turned his head there was nothing there but the ground and the flowers and the grey sky.

"We should go look for them."

"But what of..." Ædegard looked at Mellondu.

"He is the elves' concern now, isn't he?" Aeron whispered. "Gwyllion was genuinely distressed, even if she is...was...only a dream," he murmured. "We can't...just leave them there."

[Formendacil]

The sun was again fading in the west, and Bergil still carried Indil. Unless the Elves and their companions had left the road for one cause or another, he was hopeful of catching them before the sun set completely. He was already quite certain that he would not find the lost womenfolk with them.

However, once he met the Elves and their company, his task was essentially done. He could then return to Minas Tirith, resume his furlough, and put the matter out of his mind.

At least, he could if it were not for Indil.

Bergil had seen only a few travellers on the road, most going north. All remembered seeing two Elves and companions, but not one had heard of a missing girl, nor did any recognise Indil. And the further he rode, the less likely he was to find her family.

Indil's sleep had been troubled by bad dreams. They seemed to have no discernable traits or themes that Bergil could make use of, either to comfort her or to help find her family, or else Indil understood them not or forgot them on waking. She had spent most of the long day's ride in his arms, either sleeping with her thumb between her teeth, or awake and silently gazing around. In either case, she snuggled closely, intent on keeping his presence immediate and tangible.

The supper hour had passed when Bergil sighted the company he sought. Several men and horses, preparing a camp to the side of the highway. He was spied immediately by the Elves and ranger, and when he rode into their camp, they gathered around, curious.

"Is it correct that one of you is Erebemlin Silmaethor of Lórien?"

One of the Elves stepped forward from the rest of the group. His face betrayed no concern that Bergil could read. Indeed, the entire group seemed more curious than afraid, though Bergil thought the old Arnorian ranger was wary of ill news. The Elves were unreadable. But it was clear that none of them expected any evil from a Ranger of Gondor, which was as it should be.

"I am he," said the Elf who had stepped forward. "I assume you are searching for me?"

"For your company, milord," said Bergil, dismounting carefully, Indil asleep on his shoulder. "I was bid by Prince Faramir, the Steward of Gondor, to seek you out on this road. Several ladies known to your company have vanished from Minas Tirith, and it was thought that they might have joined you. Other Rangers search to the north and east of the city."

[alaklondewen]

Erebemlin stood still and silent as the young guard shared his message. “Several ladies known to your company have vanished from Minas Tirith, and it was thought that they might have joined you.”

The lines in the Elf’s face tightened and he clinched his jaw. Would the madness never cease? What else would these insufferable humans do to stand in the way of his completing the King’s quest. “There are no women among us. I am sorry you have wasted your time in seeking us for we have not had contact with the women who were part of our company since we left the White City. You may find more reward for your efforts if you join your fellow rangers to the North and East.” Erebemlin wished to kill any talk of looking for the women before it began, but he could feel the wide eyes of the humans and their anticipation. “Now excuse me,” the tall elf nodded his head toward the ranger and turned away to finish unpacking the bags for the camp.

[Imladris]

Aeron felt a chill creep up his back when he heard the news the ranger brought. The women had left the safety of the White City. Gwyllion had been right. Surely they would see sense and abandon this madness. They wouldn't leave the women in the wilderness, would they?

The elf did not think so. With a cold, "Now excuse me," he had turned away to tend to the bags.

Aeron stepped in front of him, chin held high. "Is that all you have to say?"

The elf stepped around the boy and began to pack.

"Gwyllion was right, they are gone. You cannot just...just...forsake them! They're only ladies, they do not know how to survive."

"We have our charge, Aeron," Ædegard said.

"You're all mad," Aeron whispered. "I do not know much of history, but I have heard half stories whispered by firesides and people in the street. Feanor had his oath and he kept it. And if the stories I heard were true, it did not end well because of it."

[littlemanpoet]

"There is trouble. Grave, horrible trouble. Mellonin and Bellyn have gone. They've gone to the mountains that were sunk in grey to find the Lady Nimrodel."

Such were the words Aeron had spoken the previous day, words from his dream. And here they had come true. Raefindan considered. He had set his course with Mellondu because Amroth was in Mellondu, and Amroth searched for Nimrodel, with whom was Mithrellas; and Mithrellas was the Elvish wife of Imrazor; and Raefindan was himself, apparently, Imrazor, in a previous life.

Roy Edwards didn't believe in reincarnation, but this was not his time and place; Raefindan did not doubt that such a thing might perhaps happen in this time and place.

But if Gwyllion had dreamed of Mellonin, Argaleafa, and Bellyn, and had sought Aeron in a dream, so that they might learn of it, maybe Raefindan's place was not with Mellondu after all, but with Mellonin! She had been the one whom he had first met since he had come to this place .... from wherever he had come.

Raefindan looked at the child in the arms of the new Ranger, Bergil. He had been watching the tiny figure the whole while; he could not take his eyes from her for more than a moment. There was something about her, something he felt like he ought to know about this child. But how could that be? It made no sense; not that such a thing had ever been known to stop Raefindan before .... seemingly unconnected connections were his stock in trade.

Maybe, if Aeron decided that he would go in search of the women, Raefindan would go with him. After all, he was determined to see this quest through; not necessarily in this company, and now there was a new piece of the quest. It was something to think about, and not act upon right away.

And he had a gnawing sense that Angela was not far away. How odd. She was not in this time and place at all, but he could not shake the notion. Very strange.

"Aeron," said Raefindan finally, "I am not bound by any oath; rather, I am bound to this quest, regardless of which strand of it I follow. I'm not sure yet which strand I should follow."

"My quest," said Ædegard, "is with Mellondu, for it was to him that I bound myself."

"You must do as you must, Ædegard," Raefindan answered him, "and so must I." He was looking at the girl again. "Who is the girl? Has she a name?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Indil woke and instinctively cuddled against Bergil's chest. Strangers. A man was asking her name. She looked at him, cocking her head curiously.

"Put me down." she said simply. Bergil set her on her feet and watched her look up at Raefindan. Very up.

"My name is Indil." she said, sleepy eyes fixed on his face. "What is yours?"

Raefindan looked from Bergil to the elves and back to the child, kneeling to her height. Her eyes were soft brown. He liked her eyes; maybe because they were so curious and open-to-life.

"My name is Raefindan, little one."

"Red haired man." She giggled, wide awake now. "That is not a name. What is your real name?"