Friends Of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams, Part 2 RPG

[littlemanpoet]

Another two foot was coming. It was female, Jorje could see, and not old, he could smell. Her clothing, for so Jorje had heard the two foots called it, was ragged and torn in many places. But she showed a Packleader face, her teeth bared in forbidding. Jorje sniffed uncertainly. Was this woman so jealous of her land that she wanted them gone? He smelled the air all around for her scent, and sure enough it was everywhere. But he had to make the woman see that this one fallen from the one toe dog needed help.

The woman approached. Jorje laid his ears back to show that he was no threat, and he whimpered, only the tip of his tail wagging between his hocks. Would the woman understand him? He nosed at the man-woman, for he recalled that it was she who he had seen before, with Red Man and the others. He had found one of them! But this woman had to see that the man-woman needed to be cared for.

The ragged woman came close and knelt by the man-woman. Jorje backed away a little bit.

[Celuien]

So easy. It would be so easy. Sæthryd knelt on the hard earth, listening to the rush of blood in her ears, and farther away, of the wind blowing harsh and wild in the dead passes.

The stranger's face was pale against a frame of dark hair, and even in sleep, Sæthryd thought that there were signs of some struggle within. It would be kindness to put an end to the struggle, to sooth the worried lines into the calm mask of death. That was the proper ending for those who sought the dead lands, whether they knew it or not when they came. Sæthryd stooped closer to the pale face, close enough to feel warm breath coming faintly from the intruder.

It would be so easy to send the stranger to the end of her journey. Sæthryd's fingers rested on the dark hair where it fell across the stranger's throat. But this one was different. She lived, and yet was somehow connected to the dead ones in the hills. Her hand fell back.

With sudden strength, Sæthryd grasped the visitor beneath the arm and dragged her toward the hut. She did not know why this one was different, or what had brought her so far into the wild. But she would find out, and the answer would teach Sæthryd what to do next.

They crossed the threshold, and Sæthryd espied a dog watching her from the trees. The dog ran to the door, and she slammed it tightly, ignoring the dog’s yelped protest. There were snares enough in the wood. The dog would fall into one eventually.

[Imladris]

Aeron touched the lock of hair that hung around his neck and whispered his sister's name. She had told him of the other ladies' disappearance...she had known of them, yet how did she know if it?

Was she trapped? Did she wander between the edge of life and death, a wraith not fully dead, a girl not fully alive?

Was she happy?

He closed his eyes tightly, saw the colours of his lids flow and fade and melt in front of him. He squinted, and slowly blinked one eye open, hoping to see a field of green and his sister waiting for him.

All he saw was the road and his companions as they journeyed on.

When night fell, they made camp and Aeron fell asleep.

He was in the field of flowers and his sister was there, looking to the east. She didn't turn around, but she held out her hand and he took it in his own.

"There is a wind," she said. "I can see it play with your hair."

"It feels like a wind from the sea," Aeron said. "Fresh, and full of life."

"I can't feel the wind anymore, I can't feel the sun in the sky, the earth beneath my feet, the water from the rain. I don't remember how they feel, I am forgetting."

"I...I am sorry, little Gwyl."

"I wait for a swift sunrise," she whispered.

Her hand slipped from his, and she walked into the fields. "Gwyllion, wait!" Aeron ran after her, but she was gone and the meadow was no longer green and lush, but a brown marsh stretching around him. Flies buzzed in the reeds and the smell of death twisted in the mists.

He stumbled through the stink and mud, seeking the meadow, his sister. Something tripped him, and he sprawled into the filth. There was something beside him, and he saw that it was Gwyllion. "Come on, Gwyllion," he gasped. "We don't need to be here."

She didn't move.

"Come on," he shouted. Her skin was cold, her face pallid. And then he saw the blood flowing from her wounds and staining the brown waters crimson. And death was in her unblinking eyes.

"No, Gwyllion, come on, you can't die here, you're already dead! Gwyllion..." He cradled her in his arms, and as he left, he saw Maegeleb standing near by, his arms folded, eyes cold, a satisfied smile on his lips.

Aeron's heart was pounding when he woke and his palms were sweating. "It was a dream," he said. "It was a dream, just a dream. A dream and nothing more."

[Formendacil]

The return to Minas Tirith was accomplished in few days, and to Bergil it seemed that the Elves and the Men were both motivated to travel faster than they had journeyed south, although for different reasons. With the Men, of course, there was the desire to find the womenfolk, and as quickly as possible. For the Elves, however, Bergil ascribed the motivation of wishing to deal with this irksome distraction as quickly as possible.

On the ride, Bergil became better acquainted with the company, but as they rode mostly in silence and did not rest until evening, he did not become close to any of them, and if he had been inclined to reveal his feelings, he would have said that they seemed an odd bunch.

Although apparently still welcome to accept Aeron's invitation and join them in seeking their womenfolk, Bergil was little minded to accept. Kinfolk and good friends waited in Minas Tirith and in Lossarnach whom he had not seen in some years, and there was the matter of Indil. It was Bergil's thought to leave Indil safely in the care of one of his aunts, and to search Lossarnach for her family, while visiting his own.

Indil, however, seemed to be causing other ideas. Raefindan, it seemed to Bergil, was fascinated with the little girl in a most peculiar way. Bergil had not had the opportunity to have it fully explained by any of the company, and none had volunteered the information, but he gathered that it had to do with dreams.

When, however, the company reached Minas Tirith in the heat of a sunny late afternoon, Bergil was immediately approached by one of the Guardsmen, with whom he was well acquainted.

"Bergil! You are a welcome sight," said the Guardsman, grabbing Bergil and grabbing his reins as he entered the city, stopping the young ranger, and slowing the company. Bergil could hear the irritated sigh of one of the company behind him.

"Why is that?" asked Bergil. "Surely the rangers sent north have found the women they sought, or at least traces of them."

"It is not the missing women we need tidings of," said the Guardsman. "Prince Faramir will want to know as soon as he can: did you see or hear any sign of the rogue Elf, Maegeleb?"

Before Bergil could respond beyond shaking his head slowly, an expression of bafflement on his face, Erebemlin had ridden up beside him, a look of disgust on his face, though whether it was towards the escaped Elf or his failed guardians, Bergil did not know.

"He has escaped? How has this happened?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Indil had spent much of the journey chattering away happily to Raefindan and watching the Elves. She giggled when he told her stories and pointed wild animals out to her as they traveled, and the time she did not spend shadowing Bergil was spent in his company. Between the group, she was kept as reasonably clean as travel and camping allowed, and her curiosity was often satisfied when she would slip her hand into one much larger and calloused and ask politely about many things. Very rarely was she told to hush, though Bergil noted that the Elf, Erebemlin, looked at her with eyes that regarded her youth as both something to be cherished and something to be patiently endured. He noticed that Indil never spoke to Erebemlin and fell silent at his glances. Whether this was intended or not, it was clear that Indil, who was naturally social and curious, was shy toward him.

And her dreams were yet another thing. Though the company was comprised of experienced travelers, Indil was only a small child, and slept often on the road, safely held in the saddle with either Bergil or Raefindan, always with Bergil's protective eye on her. Though she was quick to smile and solemnly well-behaved, she often woke crying and shaking, at times with choked screams. If asked, she remembered nothing, or very little. Bergil did not doubt her honesty on this; he had never once found any trace of lie in the little girl's features. She required constant reassurance and spoke often of her parents, but never anything from which Bergil or the others could glean any trace of the whereabouts of 'home' or living relatives.

Now, in the city, she sat huddled in Raefindan's lap, shaking. The sudden halt of their company had stirred her from quiet sleep and tears streamed down her cheeks, though she made no noise.

"There, little Indil," Raefindan said, smoothing loose feathers of hair away from her eyes, looking for now away from Bergil and the city guard. He gently rubbed away a tear with a careful finger. "Can you tell me what you dreamt?"

She nodded, a bare movement, trembling harder than before.

"What did you see, Indil? Were there people in your dream?"

The past few days had taught him which questions to ask to see what plagued her sleep. Though she rarely knew, there were times, and he had learned how best to inquire.

"There was a woman."

"Did you know her?"

"You did."

"I did?" He offered her a sip of water.

"Yes. And Mellondu. Mellondu knew her."

"You dreamt of Mellondu? What was he doing?"

"There were mountains. And birds singing. And she said the name you told me before. She called you Red of Edward, and Mellondu came, but he did not play with me any more, and he did not look at me and said something, and the woman was crying."

Mellondu leaned closer, listening, though he did not speak. Raefindan felt Indil's body soften as she calmed and he asked her if she remembered what Mellondu had said. She looked at Mellondu and shook her head slowly.

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan was confused by Indil's dream. Mellondu and he knew the woman Indil had dreamed of. And it was in the mountains. The only women he and Mellondu knew of were associated with their ever growing party of questers: Bella, Leafa, and Mellonin. But none of these were associated with mountains.

After Indil had wandered off to Bergil, Raefindan asked Mellondu what he thought of the dream, and he admitted that it made no sense to him. He turned the question back upon Raefindan, who shared his thoughts, limited and unuseful as they seemed to him.

"Aye," Mellondu said, tossing pebbles one after another at the stone pavement where they sat, "it makes no sense to me either. But I think it must be one of those three. Maybe it has to do with where they are now, in the mountains. Do you think that might be it?"

"It could be." Raefindan was leaning his elbow on his knee, and chin resting on his hand. "Maybe we ought to ask her what was happening to the woman she dreamed of."

"That seems well."

"Leave it to me, then," Raefindan said, standing up. He wandered off in search of Bergil and Indil.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

When Raefindan sought Indil, he found her sitting quietly on the ground, making a game of building patterns out of pebbles. He crouched next to her, studying her picture.

"I think I was wrong." she said unexpectedly, in a solemn voice Raefindan had come to associate with the girl.

"And just what is it that you were wrong about?" he asked with equal seriousness. She looked up at him with innocent eyes.

"I think the woman was not only one woman. But how could she be two?"

"Dreams are not always clear, little one. Do you remember what the woman was doing? Or," he corrected himself, "the women?"

She closed her eyes and wrinkled her forehead in concentration, clicking two small pebbles together in her lap. She opened her eyes again.

"The lady who called you Red of Edward said it hurt. But not when you were there. And I think she was not the same lady when Mellondu came and was unhappy. He asked her where to find something, I think. But I thought she might have been the same lady." Indil looked at Raefindan as though waiting for his approval. "They both waited to be alone until they cried." Her eyes were pleading. "The seemed like they were the same..."