Friends Of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams, Part 2 RPG

[mark12_30]

Dawn came, and the sun climbed. Roheryn sniffed the mannish elf-girl, and nuzzled her face. Her hand came up to ward off the scratchy horse-lip; but then she smiled.

"Very well."

She rose. There was no nearby stream in which to wash. She stepped to Roheryn's side, and he waited while she sprang onto his back; then he swung westward, following the roots of the mountains.

Later that morning they crossed a stream, and she dismounted and drank. Roheryn drank, and grazed. The lady ate nothing, for she had brought nothing. At noon she mounted again, and they rode westward again.

[Firefoot]

Rugh’s anxieties were growing. It was not natural for him to feel anxious; he preferred to be at peace with the stars and mountains and trees and animals. And the disruption, Rugh could only guess that it must come from the Stone Men, or the Horse Men, whose hands were like the strange hands he had carved. And if they were coming into his mountains, they must be sent back.

He had descended into the lower slopes of the Mountains, as low as he ever went. He had come with remarkable speed. Now he must listen again: listen, and carve. He settled in under the shade of a tree and selected a short branch. He began to carve slowly, thinking that a bird would settle his mind. But his bird did not look like a bird, nor did the deer he tried next look like a deer. Rugh scowled. Normally a relaxing and meditative art, even his carving seemed out of order with the earth. He tossed both pieces to the side

Then he sat quietly for a while, not busying his hands. In the stillness, it seemed as if he could feel… her… again, though dimly. Rugh scowled, wishing it would leave him alone, whatever it was. He picked up another piece of wood and began furiously to carve.

At some point during this carving Rugh became dimly aware of an animal that slowly approached. When it did not leave, he looked up from his work (it did not look like much; he seemed only to be steadily carving all the wood off of it rather than making it into something), and saw one of the dogs of the Tall Men watching him. Rugh fixed his stare on the dog. He was not pleased; it seemed only another sign of the Tall Men’s invasion of his Mountains. He soon realized that the dog seemed unaccompanied by Men, however, as the dog made no effort to leave and Rugh heard no sound of any of the loud Tall Men.

Despite Rugh’s initial hostility, the dog crept forward, still on his belly and still watching him. Rugh nodded and returned to his carving, deciding, “Dog can stay.”

[littlemanpoet]

The two foot smelled irked. Jorje could tell by the smell of two foots' skin what they felt inside.

Two foot smell was one of the things dogs liked best about two foots, even if they didn't know it. It had lots of salt and that tasted good.

Jorje crawled closer. This stranger did not smell eermy, just irked. Maybe the river daughter knew him. Maybe this was a good two foot for Jorje. Maybe not, but he had to find out. Two foot looked at him again.

"Dog can stay."

Jorje perked up his ears. The voice had been gravelly and growly. It reminded him of ma when she'd had much of puppy play and was irked by it but not so much that she wanted to bite him away. He rose a little on his paws and, bent low; 'grovelling' he'd heard his master say. That sharpedge moved jerky and angry, and Jorje was scared of it, but he inched closer, sniffing all the time.

When he was close enough he stretched out his snout as far as he could and sniffed at the twofoot's knee, ready to bolt if the twofoot struck.

[Imladris]

"Gwyllion has told me to do nothing. She has merely stated a fact, in much distress," Aeron said. "I wish I could pass it off as a dream, yet I cannot. It was real. It felt real. And that is why I cannot understand why you, Raefindan and especially you, Ædegard, are loathe to pursue them."

"We have a charge," Ædegard said.

"A charge." Aeron shook his head, bit his lip. "A charge is not...is not flesh and blood. A charge is nothing but a handful of words. Would you put words above the living? Amroth is dead. But from the West has come no word, And on the Hither Shore
No tidings Elven-folk have heard Of Amroth evermore. This is foolish."

"Will you stay with us, or look for the women?" asked Raefindan.

The women, or safe with the men? Aeron did not know where to look for the women. He was not a tracker. He was a lowly thief, a ragamuffin. "The last time I went off by myself led only to trouble," Aeron whisper. "I fear that if I were to seek for them alone, I would do less than nothing. But hear me," he said, "I do not agree with this, putting one over many. Is it because he is an elf king?" Aeron snorted. "They may be fairer, but their life is not worth more than ours. I now only hope that my dreams of Gwyllion are only dreams, and nothing more."

He touched the lock of hair bound by a piece of twine around his neck.

[Celuien]

The quiet, chill hours crept by over Sæthryd's hut. Silence had returned to the little valley, Sæthryd having ended her song before many minutes had passed. She sat quietly, staring into her fire as if lost to all save the glowing embers. But though she looked as calm as the deep forest around her, Sæthryd's thoughts were far from still.

Something snuffled in the fallen leaves, darting wildly through the undergrowth. The shadows fled before its approach to seek darker corners into which they could melt. There were whispers from the paths. Angry whispers. The shades of the dead were troubled.

Far away, there was the sound of horses galloping over an open plain. Far away, but growing nearer with every hoofbeat.

Sæthryd began to mutter. Syllables without meaning blended together in a wild jumble. Then she jumped out of her seat and ran outdoors to set her guard on the paths. Something approached. As had not happened in many years, for the hill people learned long ago to keep away from her snares. They knew well that the wild woman who had come in place of the vanished shades of the dead was more to be feared than any ghost.

Let them come. I shall be ready.

[Firefoot]

Rugh did not immediately proffer his hand for the same reason that he had not attempted to call the dog to him. He knew that animals would come on their own, if he showed no sign of threat, whether butterflies or birds or deer – or dogs. But a certain trust had to be established: he did not believe in luring in or taming the wild animals as the Tall Men did. No animal could be tamed, not in the sense the Tall Men used the word: there was always some part that remained wild and animal, though buried deeply in some.

Instead, moving so slowly that he almost did not seem to move at all, Rugh ceased his carving, set the piece of wood gently down on the ground, and tucked his flint away in his pouch. By then, the tenseness of the dog had alleviated some; he did not look so much like a bird ready to fly away. Only then did Rugh offer his hand to the dog to sniff, then placed his hand gently on the dog’s head. The dog yielded to this movement willingly, and only then did a slight smile cross Rugh’s face. These were familiar actions, and much more comforting to his mood than his failed carvings had been.

After a time, Rugh gave the dog a last pat and stood. It was time to move on and resume his search. To his surprise, however, the dog seemed inclined to follow him. Normally the quiet spell of connecting with an animal was broken when Rugh prepared to disappear into the trees again. “Dog is special,” Rugh realized. Did the dog perhaps feel the bad rumors of the earth as well? “Can come.”

[littlemanpoet]

"A charge is not-" Aeron paused, "-is not flesh and blood. A charge is nothing but a handful of words. Would you put words above the living? Amroth is dead. But from the West has come no word, And on the Hither Shore No tidings Elven-folk have heard Of Amroth evermore. This is foolish."

Aeron's words questioned Ædegard's way of life, though the lad did not know it. Ædegard did not hold that against the lad, but nevertheless he felt a need to calm his thought and refrain from lashing out with what seemed obvious to him. He held his peace.

"Will you stay with us, or look for the women?" asked Raefindan.

Aeron took a little time before he answered in a whisper.

"The last time I went off by myself led only to trouble; I fear that if I were to seek for them alone, I would do less than nothing. But hear me, I do not agree with this, putting one over many. Is it because he is an elf king?" Aeron snorted. "They may be fairer, but their life is not worth more than ours. I now only hope that my dreams of Gwyllion are only dreams, and nothing more."

"Do not hope such a hope!" Raefindan answered. "For it is despair masking itself as hope. Hope rather that your dream shall be proved true!"

"I do not agree with putting one over many either, unless he has earned his leadership," said Ædegard. "That is the way of the Eorlingas. And do not doubt the might of words, for they are the bones of men's ways. My words bind me."

Jorje

“Can come,” said the man as he walked away. Jorje licked the air and trotted after. The man's hand was a good hand. Jorje could tell it from the way he moved and showed his first place and his aroo. All men took first place with dogs. Jorje had smelled it over and over again. Their ma folk, some took first and some didn't. Their young ones, some ran in fear, some made themselves pack and played at being dogs and that was sign of aroo some day. Other young ones threw sticks and stones and that was eerm. This man was aroo. Before long, Jorje was trotting ahead, behind, far to one side then another, sniffing all the different smells and hearing what there was to hear. But always he was sure where the man was, and kept him in sight, racing to him and away now and again. He made the man the first one of his pack of two.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Indil squinted her eyes in the sun and watched Bergil's sword glinting in his grasp. She looked up at Raefindan and down at her hands.

"But Raefindan... if he lived very long ago..." She paused, afraid she forgot something important. She looked into his eyes again. "How would I know that lady to dream about her?"

[littlemanpoet]

After a while, Bergil relinquished Indil to Raefindan's care as the Ranger had duties amongst his fellows. Raefindan taught Indil a game called "railroad", but called it "pebbles in a row" instead. She liked making it up as she went whilst Raefindan tried hard not to over-strategize.

Aeron walked up toward noon, seeming rather bored. He came to a stop to watch what they were doing and became fascinated despite himself.

"Is it a game?"

"Yes."

"How do you play?"

"Would you like to join?" Raefindan asked.

"If I am welcome."

"What do you think, Indil? Shall we have Aeron join us?"

She looked up, grinned, and nodded. Aeron a smile and sat down with them.

While they whiled away the hours, it occurred to Raefindan that he wanted Aeron's thoughts on Indil's and his own dreams.

"So have you had any new dreams since we got back to Minas Anor, Aeron?"

[littlemanpoet]

King Elessar had commissioned Bergil to accompany the Seekers of Nimrodel, as Queen Arwen named them. He was to be their guard and guide in all realms that gave fealty to the King of Gondor, and the Seekers' trusty friend and man at arms, and emissary of the crown to all others should they pass into other lands.

Ravion went with because they needed a ranger, never mind that the one remaining Elf could read the land better than any Man. Aeron and Raefindan knew he went for Mellonin's sake, and smiled; Mellondu suspected it as well, and scowled.

Erebemlin had sent Taitheneb back to Lorien despite the younger Elf's many protests; but Erebemlin insisted, for the others back in Lorien needed to be apprised of the progress of Amroth, and informed of the manipulations of Tharonwë. Erebemlin would have preferred to go himself, and to tarry on his way at the home of Marigold, but he refused himself the pleasure for his lord Amroth came first in his allegiances.

Aeron, constantly fingering the cut of Gwyllion's hair at his neck, brooded with a closed face as they progressed along the highways of Anórien, keeping his own counsel. Such a drastic change had occurred in no-one else; Aeron had been devil-may-care until the day his sister died.

Ædegard's eyes harbored a ferocity of purpose the moment he had heard of Tharonwë's escape from the dungeons of Minas Tirith, and the will that drove him onward did not diminish.

Raefindan had the care of Indil. He was drawn to the girl in some way that not even he could fathom or describe, and she was ever ready to talk the hours away with him.

Liornung, who had been quiet for all of their trip southward, had, since they left Minas Tirith, taken out his lyre and begun to sing merry tunes again. It was as if, Raefindan suspected, the songster was brightening at the thought of having Bellyn near again, should that hope be realized.

The Four Halflings Inn and the village that had grown up around it at the shank of the White Mountains, was a day and a half behind them, and they had been making their slow way into the woods that grew about the foothills. Ravion had found spoor and other signs of the passage of horses and humans, which Erebemlin judged to be days old.

They made camp and posted guard for the night.

During Raefindan's watch, the silence of the darkling woods was broken briefly by the fitful dreams of one of them; Raefindan craned his neck to try and decipher which sleeper was in a botherment. It was Ædegard. I'll ask him in the morning if he remembers dreaming, Raefindan thought to himself.