Friends Of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams, Part 2 RPG

[littlemanpoet]

Liornung was moved by the courage of Bellyn, and just as much by her simple words. Stricken that he had not done better, he scowered his memory for a fitting song but discovered much to his dismay that all he knew were not quite right for this most unique occasion. Some were simple marriage songs more befitting of humans, others songs of love lost which seemed very wrong right now. One only, he considered, might be somewhat useful at this strange time, but perhaps not. Yet it was the best he had to offer, and offer it he did.

'Hey now, step along
along the road so dreary
dark shadows lie before us now
but let us all be cheery!
For what is past is past indeed,
and what is lost fell from the lead,
if we have music and good feed,
why should we all be weary?

Hey now, step along,
lassie looking sadly,
the darkness on your face does show
that you've been treated badly,
but if a cheery smile did grace
your wholly fair and lovely face
there'd no time nor any place,
for naught but dancing gladly!

Hey now, step along,
a cast aside your sorrow!
Tears and groans and angry words
are naught but trouble borrowed.
So step and give a little dance
and light and lively sway and prance!
For recall, there's still a chance
of happiness tomorrow!'

Once he had finished, the song seemed too light for the occasion, and Liornung was abashed, until he heard happy words.

"I like that!" Indil cried, smiling wide. Raefindan, though seeming occupied, smiled grimly while Mithrellas nodded and smiled mildly.

[mark12_30]

When Liornung's song was half done, a heavy sigh came from Amroth, but after it a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and a light came into his eyes: different than the fevered glitter; this was easy merriment.

Liornung, you should have joined us in the clearings on a midsummer's night. Would that we could have brought you there, even as you have just brought me there.

Liornung cheered up still further, and Amroth bent his gaze upon Nimrodel. But you did join us, my gazelle. I did bring you there. You remember. You were the fleetest of us all, and your song the sweetest. You remember.

Liornung gasped. He stood in the center of a ring, and all about him, elves and elf maidens wove a wild maze of pathways. Circling round and round, madly weaving, wildly laughing, singing as they danced, and yet there was never a mis-step. He wondered how they could catch their breath. The dance went on and on, with never a hint of weariness. Flowers bent under their feet, but sprang up again, only to be tread upon by the next, and the next; yet Liornung knew that in the morning, there would be no marks to show where their feet had passed.

Nimrodel, lying in the ash at the foot of the rock, stirred. "The circle dances. Of course. How could I forget? The endless circle dances."

Liornung gasped again, filling his lungs with ash. He stood beside Nimrodel, in the center of a ring, and all about them, the dead wove a wild maze of pathways. Circling round and round, weaving, crying and mocking and wailing, they danced; they were never out of breath. The dance went on and on, with never a hint of weariness. Rocks went through their feet undisturbed; there were no footprints prints in the ash. In the morning, there would be no marks to show where their feet had passed.

Nimrodel swayed to the rythm of their cries, and waved her arms at them as they whirled round her.
"So step and give a little dance
and light and lively sway and prance!"

She nodded, and turned to Liornung. "Yes, Oathbreaker. A fine song, for a circle dance. Shall we join them? Here, take my hand!" She laughed, and reached for Luiornung's hand; her hand passed through his. Or was it his hand that passed through hers? Her laughter raing out harshly, and Liornung winced.

The ash cleared, and it was Amroth's hand she was reaching for. Her hand passed through his, but she gazed into his face, her eyes hungry, her breath caught. She reached for him again; he reached for her; their hands passed through each other. Her anger flared. "Oathbreaker, " she hissed. "Hey, now, step along! Oathbreaker!" She recoiled from him, and then stopped. He held her gaze.

"Why have you not come, " she accused him.

"I have come now. I am here, Clearwater."

"You are... here?"

"I am here. Leave the ash behind, my love."

"The ash." She turned, and looked around; the midsummer green of Lorien beckoned to her. Yet the leaves began to fall. As they fell, they turned from green to gold; and then brighter and brighter, they began to burn.

Amroth cried out. Elves broke out of the circle and began to flee, beckoning and crying out to Amroth and Nimrodel that they should run. Nimrodel gazed in horror. To the west, a shadow grew. Amroth and Nimrodel shrank from it; but they were rooted to the ground, unable to run. On it came; the blackness grew, the shadow deepened, and even the leaves still on the trees began to burn. Soon entire Mallorns were engulfed in flames, and the shadow towered over the trees. Nimrodel screamed; Amroth cried out in horror and fear.

Shadow and flame.

Erebemlin stood beside the king. My lord! Heed it not! He laid his great hand on the kings' shoulder, and furrowed his brow against the shadow.

In a moment, there was only grey. They stood among the ash, and the barren stones. Nimrodel went back to the rock, lay down in the ash, and shut her eyes.

[littlemanpoet]

Tharonwë blinked. Thrice now he had imagined the deed, but only once had he meant to. The second and third times, he had believed that it was real - it had been real! - until he had realized that he was standing there still, near the edge of the vale, with the same two arrows in his hand, as yet unreleased. Erebemlin still knelt by the blacksmith who was holding Nimrodel above the stream bed, both of them uninjured. The two maimed Eorlingas still stood together, arm in arm, watching the Elves. And now the minstrel and Gondorian woman had sung songs dripping with sentimentality. All this nonsense must come to an end!

He raised the first arrow to the bow again. Yes, all of them were watching the drama by the streambed, except for the dog, who was watching him. No matter. He aimed at the neck of the blacksmith again. He pulled back on the bowstring to his cheek. He let fly.

How had the dog moved so quickly? How had it jumped into the air at just the right moment and taken the arrow in its side with a yelp? Now it lay on its side panting heavily. The Eorlingas turned and looked in horror, and the wainwright let go of his love and came at Tharonwë. He raised the other arrow, aimed it at the wainwright, and let loose. It pierced his left breast; blood flowed like a river: the arrow had found his heart, and he fell. The earless girl screamed.

Tharonwë grabbed another arrow from the quiver and aimed again at the blacksmith.

Aeron and Gwyllion

"See what Raefindan is doing?" she asked him.

"Yes, I do."

"Want to help him?"

"But he killed me."

"That was when he was being used by the swamp elf. It was the swamp elf who really killed you, so that means he killed both of us. Now Raefindan's in control. Let's go help."

Aeron nodded. They rose from their place by the edge of the vale and made their way to the swamp elf, who stood staring at dreams. They walked straight into him. Being ghosts, they could see the thought waves that Raefindan had patterned into a door right into Tharonwë's mind. Together hey opened the door and went in.

Tharonwë

He was standing there, seeing that the dog was still alive watching him, and the Eorlingas were still hand in hand observing the blacksmith. But now the two orphans were standing in front of him, looking up at him quizzically. They could not be here! He had killed them both! One was in a watery grave by the Entwash swamps, the other a broken corpse in a mountain valley.

"You really think you're somethin', don't you?" the girl asked.

"You don't get it, do you?" the boy added.

"You're not going to get your way, plain and simple." the girl shook her head in mock sympathy.

"You are dead," Tharonwë said. "You cannot be here."

"Oh, we're dead, but we're here," said the girl.

"And you're just wasting your time," said the boy. "In fact, your whole life is a waste from what I can tell."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he said crossly to them both. "Out of my way!"

The girl crossed her arms dramatically and lowered her brow, pursing her lips meaningfullly. "We're not going anywhere!"

"And you're not going to do anything. Just try!" said the boy, grinning mischievously.

"I have been tr-" Tharonwë stopped. He was not about to explain himself to a pair of sillly human children. But he had been trying, and he had not been doing anything. How could this be?

Ædegard

"You're dead. You can't be here."

Ædegard frowned and turned in curiosity. The swamp elf had spoken. He was looking down in front of him, holding a bow and a pair of arrows in two listless hands. Had the elf gone moonstruck? Ædegard nudged Leafa and tilted his head in the direction of the swamp elf, who was apparently carrying on a conversation with phantoms of his own imagining. Leafa raised a hand to her smiling lips and giggled mildly, then turned her attention back to Amroth. Ædegard looked at Raefindan, who smiled and winked once before returning his gaze back to Mellondu.

[mark12_30]

An echo glimmered in Erebemin's mind. It took the shape of a young boy and a young maid. No, that could not be right. What boy was with Nimrodel? There were none. It had to be Nimrodel and Mithrellas. Who was the third? Perhaps Avarien. But it did not seem to fit.

"You think you are an ancient one, do you not?" Nimrodel asked.

"The world has changed and you know it not," Mithrellas added.

"You will not find the way." Nimrodel shook her head.

"I will. Fare thee well. I go to find the birthplace of the elves."

"It is dead," Mithrellas said. "You cannot be there."

"It cannot be dead. I shall go there."

"You shall waste your time," said Nimrodel. "Beware lest your whole life be a waste. Who can tell?"

"You know not of what you speak," she said crossly to them both. "Bar not my way!"

Mithrellas shook her head. "We bar nothing."

"You shall find nothing. You were faithless and unwilling before, you are faithless and unwilling now, " said Nimrodel.

"I have tried, " she replied. "You neither desire nor trust my faith. I shall seek the shores more ancient than you, for they shall not break faith with me."

"Go then!" cried Nimrodel. "Faithless you are, and unwilling you have always been. Avarien I name you. Go!"

Avarien wasted no more time with the madwoman and her handmaid. Swift and silent, she ran northeast, and the woods soon hid her from their sight.

Mellonin was restless, and cried out in Ravion's arms. He spoke to her. He looked around the glade; he saw only Nimrodel and Mithrellas. He gazed again at Mellonin, and knew Avarien was not far away.

[mark12_30]

Amroth looked at Erebemlin, and leaned on him in his heart. Avarien? He did not know when she had left. She felt near yet far, or was it far yet near? And she had never before seemed a... a rascal. Or ... a thief? He frowned.

The boy. And his waiflike, wraithlike sister. He shuddered. So they had lingered here?

He knew more than he wanted to remember, about lingering. It sickened him, and he wanted to weep for them but revulsion was stronger.

Go. Go to where your fathers await you! Linger not! Linger not, children. Fly, fly to your ancestral home. Be at peace.

He was surprised to be met with laughter, and Erebemlin stirred, looking down at Mellonin in Ravion's arms.

Nimrodel lay quietly in her ashes.

[littlemanpoet]

Gwyll and Aeron watched as Raefindan had Tharonwë thinking in circles. It was like watching a three ring circus. They looked at each other, surprised at the image in their minds, and laughed, then looked at Raefindan, for the thought had come from him, something from his own past and their future. A three ring circus! With trained mûmak on two legs and silly men with painted faces - one of which had a big angry scowl painted on his face - that was Tharonwë! They howled with laughter at the silly elf. But then they had had enough, and walked away from him.

They came to Amroth and Nimrodel, and looked within their thought and saw. Nimrodel, hopeless, lay in a heap of ash while Amroth stood by unable to reach her, hope and despair vying with each other in his mind.

"Let's go, Gwyll," said Aeron.

They came into the ash filled place.

"Don't wish us away," Aeron told Amroth, "we're supposed to be here, for you!"

Gwyll walked over to Nimrodel and tapped on her shoulder. "Wake up! Amroth is here! It's time to play games!"

[mark12_30]

NImrodel sat up, and looked at Gwyll.

"...games?" she said. "Hello, little one. What kind of games?" She wiped the ash out of her hair, a little. "I like games." And she stood.