Friends Of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams, Part 2 RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

mark12_30 · 08-26-2010, 07:08 PM

Nimrodel stepped into the grey boat from Lothlorien, stood in the stern, and began to sing. Mellondu followed, and the boat swung out into the current. He hid his face, for a moment, but then raised his eyes, and looked full into her face, and waited.

The roar of the falls grew.

Ravion watched, surrounded by song, as the boat dwindled and rushed toward the falls. He could see as clearly as if he stood nearby. He shook his head; suspended over the falls with Gwyllion and Aeron, he caught his breath as the grey boat hesitated on the glassy top. A moment it hung, and then it plunged down the falls.

They waited.

Beneath the thundering foam, silver trout rippled and flashed southward. Ravion, Gwyllion, and Aeron flew above the river, and gazing, saw the grey elvish boat filled with clear water. Nearby swam Mellondu, and the boat seemed to pause and wait for him.

Nimrodel was nowhere to be seen.

Mellondu's cry pierced even the thunder of the falls. The boat swept him switfly southward; he clung to it, at first, and then crawled over the gunwale, and sat in the clear water. It seemed to Ravion that day turned to night, and the river slowed. Mellondu passed six streams, and when he came to the seventh, he took up the paddle, and steered into it, and got out of the boat, leaving it carelessly in the shallows.

From the marshes, a bent and haggard woman in green came slowly out to meet him. He knelt before her, and she took his face into her bony hands, and his tears poured through her fingers and onto the grass.

She let him weep awhile, and then taking him by the shoulders, raised him to his feet, and turned him to look at the boat. She raised one hand, and the boat turned, and floated past; he cried aloud. Nimrodel now lay, composed and still and young, in the boat beneath the clear water. Only her hair moved, as tiny silver minnows flickered about her. A school of silver trout swam south, around and beneath the grey boat.

Marigold stood with one hand holding Mellondu's shoulder, one hand still raised in farewell; Mellondu froze in disbelief as the grey boat followed the current south, dwindling into the distance til it faded from sight. Mist rose from the river, and the cold settled deeper and deeper into Mellondu's heart. They stood so til dawn.

mark12_30 · 08-26-2010, 07:40 PM

Ravion stood by the bank, and wondered at Erebemlin's silence, 'til he saw his eyes downcast. The glade grew quiet; Mellondu was gone; Nimrodel was gone. Aeron and Gwyllion were gone; so were Indil's parents. The Rohirrim still sang, softly, but Bella was silent. Mellonin wept. He longed to find peace for her.

Instead he turned to the elves, and placed one hand on Erebemlin's shoulder, and another hand on Taitheneb's head. Part of him wondered why he did so; yet even as he wondered, he saw Marigold lift her wrinkled face, and call Erebemlin; her voice was soft and golden. Slowly Erebemlin stirred, and looked down at Ravion as if from a great distance. Taitheneb slowly opened his eyes. Ravion heard Marigold speaking, long and low; the elves waited, numb with grief. Anon she ceased, and the elves closed their eyes again.

The Rohirrim ceased singing, and the glade was still.

mark12_30 · 10-11-2010, 12:16 PM

Between the reeds, shadows flickered as muddy eddies swirled. A fog had settled in over the marsh, and the porch was slippery. The old man leaned on the railing.

"Come to dinner," called a thin voice from within.

He did not want the oily marsh trout again, so he stood clutching the rail. She hobbled out, stood by him clutching the rail, and gazed at the eddies and the fish below.

The fish turned, and swam southward. They would have flickered silver in the sunlight but the fog was too thick.

"He will come to us soon, " she said.

He stirred. "I would rather he lived."

"Fear him not," she replied, in a voice no longer thin. He looked at her; she was clothed in green, and there were golden glints in her hair. He looked up; the sun was still behind the fog.

"Does he not owe the elf-lord his life? Erebemlin? Is he not bound to him?"" he replied.

She stood taller, and the green and gold grew brighter. "The elf-lord has released him. He will be home soon, " she said.

A thin voice called from within. "Come to dinner." He looked within, and his wife stood waiting. He looked back to the railing. There was no one.

He turned, and shuffled inside. "Mellondu will be home soon, " he said.

mark12_30 · 02-09-2011, 02:01 PM

Liornung waited, and wished he could sing. But the mist was too heavy.

He waited, and watched, especially the two elves. They felt so cold. WHy he could feel it he did not know; he had felt Erebemlin's fire, a little; now he felt their ice.

Yet it was not quite despair. Not quite. Erebemlin and Taitheneb stood locked in thought, lingering, wondering, missing the mountain elf; missing their golden king. Erebemlin missed Nimrodel, too; and even the blacksmith, a little.

In his mind's eye, Liornung saw a lady in green, with golden hair, by the riverside. Yet when he turned to the bank, there was no one.

Behind him, Taitheneb stirred, and looked toward the same spot on the bank.

mark12_30 · 10-14-2011, 12:58 PM

Beneath several minty-smelling quilts Mellondu slept deeply. His breathing was regular, and deep. Dried salt tracks whitened his face and his dark beard.

Marigold walked up the path towards her little house laden with herbs. She had walked far, but nothing had disturbed the lad; Jorje had seen to that. He thumped his tail on the floor at her as she entered the house, and Mellondu stirred. She added a handful of the fresh herbs to the kettle, hung the kettle over the fire, and bent down and brushed the hair from the blacksmith’s brow. “Sleep,” she whispered. “Be at peace.”

With a contented sigh, Jorje lay his head back down. Marigold smiled at him, and then returned her gaze to the blacksmith. His dreams were no longer of death, but neither were they of joy. She stood watch over him. Nearby, Taitheneb and Erebemlin waited; she smiled at them, and they faded from her sight, but they were near nevertheless.

mark12_30 · 10-14-2011, 01:15 PM

No one in the glade spoke.

Through the cold night, some stood, some sat by the water's edge. Several of the Rohirrim huddled together for warmth; some even slept. The elves stood like statues, their eyes gazing far to the north. The only moving thing was the mist, rising from the water and rising from the lips of men and elves.

When the stars had all faded and the eastern sky was shot through with gold, Raefindan stirred and stood; Mithrellas met his gaze, and Indil gave them each one of her little hands, and they walked to the water's edge and washed their tears off of their faces.

Slowly the Rohirrim joined them, washing and drinking. The mist caught the sunrise, and the glade was filled with soft golden light.

Far on the edge of the glade, the dark elf lay still. He had been forgotten. She watched him for a moment, and then turned toward Erebemlin. He was as cold as the night had been. But in Taitheneb she felt a glimmer of the dawn.

littlemanpoet · 11-27-2011, 12:49 PM

Jorje Tirril had much to do! The river woman had said so. The One-toes needed a pack leader and he was to be it. He had a long way to go but he knew how to scrounge up a meal where he needed to, and the river woman said he was allowed to sleep.

He sniffed his way back up the tilted land and through stony places where it was cold and windy with few scents on the wind. Then he scrabbled down past where the big snow had fallen (that was gone now and warmth had made it all turn wet) to where the one-toes were.

It took some yammering and calling before these silly over-sized dogs with the single toes and the wrong shaped noses understood what was needed from them. Jorje wished he was working with his own kind of dog - or at worst the fluffy stupid grass-eaters. These one toes, for all their length of nose, just weren't good dogs. Didn't they have any sniff sense? Well, some but not much. And the two-foots could ride them. No, grass eaters would not do.

Finally they got the sniff of it and allowed themselves to be hallooed down the tilted land. It was a long way around. They passed the walled burrow where many two-foots lived and kept going, following the big river, then kept the tilted land in sight to their right until they came to another river, the one the river woman said was the one to follow up into the tilted land. And there they were to stop. It took many sleeps to get there, but he got it done without losing a single one-toe.

It had been close one time when a group of one-toe riders had tried to herd his pack away, but the river woman must have helped because his one-toe pack had outrun them (sometimes it was good not to have riders on one-toes).

At last they came to the place, with lush warm grass for the one toes and little four-foots Jorje could catch and eat, and he sniffed on the wind the words of the river woman: "Good dog, Jorje Tirril, you are a very good dog! You have done well! Red-top is coming with all the others."

Red-top? Jorje was happy and waited eagerly.

08-26-2010, 07:08 PM	#1
mark12_30 Stormdancer of Doom Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars Posts: 4,349	Nimrodel stepped into the grey boat from Lothlorien, stood in the stern, and began to sing. Mellondu followed, and the boat swung out into the current. He hid his face, for a moment, but then raised his eyes, and looked full into her face, and waited. The roar of the falls grew. Ravion watched, surrounded by song, as the boat dwindled and rushed toward the falls. He could see as clearly as if he stood nearby. He shook his head; suspended over the falls with Gwyllion and Aeron, he caught his breath as the grey boat hesitated on the glassy top. A moment it hung, and then it plunged down the falls. They waited. Beneath the thundering foam, silver trout rippled and flashed southward. Ravion, Gwyllion, and Aeron flew above the river, and gazing, saw the grey elvish boat filled with clear water. Nearby swam Mellondu, and the boat seemed to pause and wait for him. Nimrodel was nowhere to be seen. Mellondu's cry pierced even the thunder of the falls. The boat swept him switfly southward; he clung to it, at first, and then crawled over the gunwale, and sat in the clear water. It seemed to Ravion that day turned to night, and the river slowed. Mellondu passed six streams, and when he came to the seventh, he took up the paddle, and steered into it, and got out of the boat, leaving it carelessly in the shallows. From the marshes, a bent and haggard woman in green came slowly out to meet him. He knelt before her, and she took his face into her bony hands, and his tears poured through her fingers and onto the grass. She let him weep awhile, and then taking him by the shoulders, raised him to his feet, and turned him to look at the boat. She raised one hand, and the boat turned, and floated past; he cried aloud. Nimrodel now lay, composed and still and young, in the boat beneath the clear water. Only her hair moved, as tiny silver minnows flickered about her. A school of silver trout swam south, around and beneath the grey boat. Marigold stood with one hand holding Mellondu's shoulder, one hand still raised in farewell; Mellondu froze in disbelief as the grey boat followed the current south, dwindling into the distance til it faded from sight. Mist rose from the river, and the cold settled deeper and deeper into Mellondu's heart. They stood so til dawn. Last edited by mark12_30; 08-27-2010 at 06:28 AM.

08-26-2010, 07:40 PM	#2
mark12_30 Stormdancer of Doom Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars Posts: 4,349	Ravion stood by the bank, and wondered at Erebemlin's silence, 'til he saw his eyes downcast. The glade grew quiet; Mellondu was gone; Nimrodel was gone. Aeron and Gwyllion were gone; so were Indil's parents. The Rohirrim still sang, softly, but Bella was silent. Mellonin wept. He longed to find peace for her. Instead he turned to the elves, and placed one hand on Erebemlin's shoulder, and another hand on Taitheneb's head. Part of him wondered why he did so; yet even as he wondered, he saw Marigold lift her wrinkled face, and call Erebemlin; her voice was soft and golden. Slowly Erebemlin stirred, and looked down at Ravion as if from a great distance. Taitheneb slowly opened his eyes. Ravion heard Marigold speaking, long and low; the elves waited, numb with grief. Anon she ceased, and the elves closed their eyes again. The Rohirrim ceased singing, and the glade was still. Last edited by mark12_30; 02-09-2011 at 09:08 AM.

10-11-2010, 12:16 PM	#3
mark12_30 Stormdancer of Doom Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars Posts: 4,349	Between the reeds, shadows flickered as muddy eddies swirled. A fog had settled in over the marsh, and the porch was slippery. The old man leaned on the railing. "Come to dinner," called a thin voice from within. He did not want the oily marsh trout again, so he stood clutching the rail. She hobbled out, stood by him clutching the rail, and gazed at the eddies and the fish below. The fish turned, and swam southward. They would have flickered silver in the sunlight but the fog was too thick. "He will come to us soon, " she said. He stirred. "I would rather he lived." "Fear him not," she replied, in a voice no longer thin. He looked at her; she was clothed in green, and there were golden glints in her hair. He looked up; the sun was still behind the fog. "Does he not owe the elf-lord his life? Erebemlin? Is he not bound to him?"" he replied. She stood taller, and the green and gold grew brighter. "The elf-lord has released him. He will be home soon, " she said. A thin voice called from within. "Come to dinner." He looked within, and his wife stood waiting. He looked back to the railing. There was no one. He turned, and shuffled inside. "Mellondu will be home soon, " he said. Last edited by mark12_30; 02-09-2011 at 01:55 PM. Reason: sepelling

02-09-2011, 02:01 PM	#4
mark12_30 Stormdancer of Doom Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars Posts: 4,349	Liornung waited, and wished he could sing. But the mist was too heavy. He waited, and watched, especially the two elves. They felt so cold. WHy he could feel it he did not know; he had felt Erebemlin's fire, a little; now he felt their ice. Yet it was not quite despair. Not quite. Erebemlin and Taitheneb stood locked in thought, lingering, wondering, missing the mountain elf; missing their golden king. Erebemlin missed Nimrodel, too; and even the blacksmith, a little. In his mind's eye, Liornung saw a lady in green, with golden hair, by the riverside. Yet when he turned to the bank, there was no one. Behind him, Taitheneb stirred, and looked toward the same spot on the bank.

10-14-2011, 12:58 PM	#5
mark12_30 Stormdancer of Doom Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars Posts: 4,349	Beneath several minty-smelling quilts Mellondu slept deeply. His breathing was regular, and deep. Dried salt tracks whitened his face and his dark beard. Marigold walked up the path towards her little house laden with herbs. She had walked far, but nothing had disturbed the lad; Jorje had seen to that. He thumped his tail on the floor at her as she entered the house, and Mellondu stirred. She added a handful of the fresh herbs to the kettle, hung the kettle over the fire, and bent down and brushed the hair from the blacksmith’s brow. “Sleep,” she whispered. “Be at peace.” With a contented sigh, Jorje lay his head back down. Marigold smiled at him, and then returned her gaze to the blacksmith. His dreams were no longer of death, but neither were they of joy. She stood watch over him. Nearby, Taitheneb and Erebemlin waited; she smiled at them, and they faded from her sight, but they were near nevertheless.

10-14-2011, 01:15 PM	#6
mark12_30 Stormdancer of Doom Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars Posts: 4,349	No one in the glade spoke. Through the cold night, some stood, some sat by the water's edge. Several of the Rohirrim huddled together for warmth; some even slept. The elves stood like statues, their eyes gazing far to the north. The only moving thing was the mist, rising from the water and rising from the lips of men and elves. When the stars had all faded and the eastern sky was shot through with gold, Raefindan stirred and stood; Mithrellas met his gaze, and Indil gave them each one of her little hands, and they walked to the water's edge and washed their tears off of their faces. Slowly the Rohirrim joined them, washing and drinking. The mist caught the sunrise, and the glade was filled with soft golden light. Far on the edge of the glade, the dark elf lay still. He had been forgotten. She watched him for a moment, and then turned toward Erebemlin. He was as cold as the night had been. But in Taitheneb she felt a glimmer of the dawn.

11-27-2011, 12:49 PM	#7
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	Jorje Tirril had much to do! The river woman had said so. The One-toes needed a pack leader and he was to be it. He had a long way to go but he knew how to scrounge up a meal where he needed to, and the river woman said he was allowed to sleep. He sniffed his way back up the tilted land and through stony places where it was cold and windy with few scents on the wind. Then he scrabbled down past where the big snow had fallen (that was gone now and warmth had made it all turn wet) to where the one-toes were. It took some yammering and calling before these silly over-sized dogs with the single toes and the wrong shaped noses understood what was needed from them. Jorje wished he was working with his own kind of dog - or at worst the fluffy stupid grass-eaters. These one toes, for all their length of nose, just weren't good dogs. Didn't they have any sniff sense? Well, some but not much. And the two-foots could ride them. No, grass eaters would not do. Finally they got the sniff of it and allowed themselves to be hallooed down the tilted land. It was a long way around. They passed the walled burrow where many two-foots lived and kept going, following the big river, then kept the tilted land in sight to their right until they came to another river, the one the river woman said was the one to follow up into the tilted land. And there they were to stop. It took many sleeps to get there, but he got it done without losing a single one-toe. It had been close one time when a group of one-toe riders had tried to herd his pack away, but the river woman must have helped because his one-toe pack had outrun them (sometimes it was good not to have riders on one-toes). At last they came to the place, with lush warm grass for the one toes and little four-foots Jorje could catch and eat, and he sniffed on the wind the words of the river woman: "Good dog, Jorje Tirril, you are a very good dog! You have done well! Red-top is coming with all the others." Red-top? Jorje was happy and waited eagerly.