Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[littlemanpoet]

The Valar? Iluvatar himself? Ædegard blew out a sigh. That set things at a different slant than he had thought. Suddenly, their quest seemed a hard slog always uphill.

"If Amroth perished in the sea, Erebemlin, then his ghost must have passed to the Halls of Mandos. Do I have the right of it?"

"Aye," Erebemlin replied with a kindly smile.

"And if 'tis so, then Mandos has given his leave for Amroth's ghost to return. Why would his ghost have need of a body?"

Ædegard looked at Erebemlin, who shrugged, as baffled as he was. "Mellon, your questions are not foolish, but seek out wisdom that is beyond the Children of Iluvatar, it seems. I must think on this for a while, but I do not think that I will come to an answer; not without aid."

"What kind of aid, sir?"

Erebemlin laughed. "Please do not call me sir! Mellon is enough if my name comes not easily to your lips. I do not know what kind of aid. The road ahead shall show us, I think."

It was Ædegard's turn to look on Erebemlin in bemusement. After a moment he smiled and said, "My thanks, mellon, for listening to the pryings of a humble human wheelwright."

"It has been my pleasure, friend Ædegard. Do keep wrestling with these questions of yours. We may find from them answers we did not know we needed."

"I will do so, then."

With that, the two rejoined the party.

[littlemanpoet]

Deep in woods he walks, not far from his home. He loves to walk among the trees. He stops. A light voice is lifted in sad song. He hurries toward it and hides behind the eaves of a fir tree. An Elven lady is seated upon a small grassy knoll where trees do not grow. Her head hangs and she holds herself up by one arm. She is pale and faint, her face full of beauty and misery, her hair black and long. She is from his dreams! Before thought can stop him, he comes to her from out of the trees and kneels before her. She looks up and sees him as if looking upon a fair vision from far away. She falls and he catches her, light as down. He carries her to his home, holding her close. Her hair smells of fresh leaves, her breath of flowers. Her hair, black, is radiant, shining like stars in deep night. He takes her into his home and lays her on his bed and succors her, and sleeps at night on the floor next to her bed. Many days she sleeps, but finally wakes. Her eyes are filled with sadness, but she looks upon him as if she has known him all his life, and gladness seems mingled with her sadness. He cannot express his joy, but brings her drink and a bit of bread, which she accepts with a smile.

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung walked by Bellyn and Argeleafa, gazing about him as well as keeping watch on them. He would not care for either of them to wander off and become lost... perhaps wander to some other Elf who would not deal with them as kindly as the Elves in their company had. But, nay, he had always heard that Elves were kindly creatures. Yet to find two mortals wandering about in their lands? Liornung shook his head. It did not matter what another Elf might do, for the young women would not become lost at all.

Argeleafa had been silent all the day, and while she seemed calm and composed she spoke very distantly with everyone. Yet she did not fool Liornung, for he often saw her when she did not know he was looking, and she gazed wistfully at the company as they talked with each other. He knew how much she longed to join them, and again and again he had tried to invite her to speak with them, but she refused his offers every time. Perhaps it was not his acceptance she wanted. She seemed to hesitate to join them even if one was willing. It seemed as though she would not until all of them expressed their willingness. Liornung knew the others would enjoy her company, but she did not.

I wander under leaves of gold
a forest that seems young and old.
Knowing eyes and silent feet
I see in every Elf I meet.
Lothlorien, how fair are you!
Each leaf of gold glimmers true,
and the fair grass quivering
in winds through trees shivering.

"Where did you hear that song, Liornung?" Bellyn questioned. She was looking thoughtfully at him out of brown eyes. She had apparently enjoyed the song, for the traces of delight were present in her face. Argeleafa had heard the song but said nothing.

"I did not hear it," Liornung replied, "from any Man nor from Elf, but it came to me last night in a soft wind." He remembered that sweet breath of wind that had brought the song to his heart, but more than that he recalled the tears of Argeleafa, the poor little lass longing for home. He hoped their journey would end soon, for her sake at least. She wanted nothing more than to return home, but it could not be until the end of the journey. And for his sake, too! He wanted to return to the 'Inn' where all his friends awaited him. How many times he had wished for that on their roads.

"Bella," he said, and she looked up at him again, "what have you thought of our journey thus far? Have you enjoyed it as much as you thought you would, or do you find yourself longing to return home?" He paused and realized that he had only met her because she also was at the 'Inn.' It posed a new question. "And where is your home? Do you have any family where you come from?" He let his questions cease, seeing that they might be rather annoying, and looked to Ædegard. What family did that young man have besides his sister? Where did he come from? Where did he intend to go when the journey was over?

He sighed and shook his head. He had believed he had known his companions quite well, but in all truth he hardly knew them at all.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Bellyn blushed momentarily at the sudden change of subject and the sudden shift of attention to her. When she'd quickly regained her composure, Bellyn wondered where to start with Liornung's questioning. Liornung had brought up a very good point. None of them knew where Bellyn really came from, other than that she originally hailed from Gondor. Is it a story they would like to know, or that I would even like to tell? Bellyn asked herself.

She looked to her companions. They would be together on the road for days, Bellyn knew. The bond between them was strengthening, even with new companions like Argeleafa, Mellon, and the elf. Besides, Bellyn could not bear to refuse Liornung the information he had asked for.

"This journey is hardly ended, and hardly even started. Still, I have already learned much. I never thought that something like love could drive a person to travel and search as we have. I had never seen such a beautiful place as this...before when drawing I was restricted to things I had imagined in my mind, and now I can see all of my art come to life right in front of me. The power of music and love - when put together, I suppose - has shown me a new level of determination..." Bellyn replied, nodding to Liornung and giving an inviting smile to Argeleafa. "As far as where my home is, I live in Edoras with my brother and my father. I used to live in Minas Tirith with..." Bellyn paused. "My father and mother and my two brothers. My father is always away now, travelling and exploring and making maps. I was in the care of my brother, but I spend so much time at Inns drawing that I do not think I will be missed much."

Bellyn took a breath, suddenly glad that they knew where she came from, whether they really wanted to know or not.

"Really though, I'm glad to finally be the one exploring, and not the one sitting lonely at an inn drawing what I wish I saw." Bellyn added thoughtfully. "Argeleafa, what do you think of your journey so far? I know you must miss your family...do you think well of any of it?"

[mark12_30]

Amroth heard the surrounding chatter as if from a great distance; almost as if he stood on the Dagorlad hearing the whispers of far-off minds.

Those whispers were a great comfort to him. He stood surrounded by dust and pits, and reeking fumes swirled around him; nothing, not even slime or mould lived here. All was blasted, wasted. He combed past mounds and pits and heaps of slag and puddles rimmed with poisonous oils.

Where are you?

He looked for her footprints in the dust. Among many, there were none like hers. There were no minds there to touch, to find momentary rest in, and the strain of searching was terrible.

When the sun reached its height, he broke off his search and was half surprised to find himself riding by the river. The mingled music of running water, hoofbeats, and friendly voices was so lovely he shed silent tears.

[Nurumaiel]

Argeleafa started when she heard Bellyn speak to her, and then she flushed with pleasure and some shyness. She moved a little closer to the group, dropping her dancing eyes to hide the joy in them. Liornung cast a grateful look at Bellyn. Perhaps the latter didn't even know what Argeleafa felt, but it was welcome for someone to speak to the lass. Argeleafa lifted the skirt of her dress a little above her ankles to allow her to walk more freely. She stared intensely at the ground, longing to look up at Bellyn as she spoke but much too shy. "I... I don't know what I think of our journey," she said, "but I do miss my home, and my family. Sometimes I wish I was home now and not treading these roads, but... I also wish this journey would never end, for I know when it does I shall have nowhere to go. I do not want to stay at my home all alone, but I do not want to rejoin my parents for to do so I would rejoin the wayfarers."

Liornung drew in a sharp breath. He had not considered that. He had been intending to bring the girl back to her home and family when the journey was over, but he realized now it was impossible. She had no home, and her family was with the wayfarers. She did not want to go back to that life; she couldn't go back to that life. Yet... where else could she go? Even if the house had not been sold by her father, could she stay there all alone? Perhaps she had an uncle or a grandfather somewhere. How simple it would be if she had a lover. A husband would solve all difficulties. "Argeleafa, have you any relations? An uncle, perhaps, or grandparents?"

She looked at him in surprise at the unexpected question. "Why, no, I don't," she said. "My uncles died in the War when I was very young, and my grandparents died in a sickness that came to the village they lived in. My only relations are my parents."

"What about..." He hesitated. It was an odd question to ask. "To put it quite bluntly, have you any lover?"

She blushed and for a moment a glimmer of hope came to him, but then she shook her head. And she was being truthful, as well. Alas for that. She must have merely been the kind of lass that thought the subject rather delicate. She had no lover, she had no relations. Perhaps Ædegard would know what she should do. No, no, of course not. Ædegard was the leader of their group on this journey. It was not his business what the members of their company did at the end. And if Liornung could think of nothing, could Ædegard think of anything?

He cast it aside in his mind. Their journey was not yet close to being ended, and he would concern himself with the problem when the time came. For now he would be light and merry. He turned to Bellyn, a smile on his face. "Sing a song for us, sweet Bella," he said. "Your voice is lovely, and I think it would please Lord Amroth."

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Bellyn was not used to so many wonderful comments being directed towards her. She had already grown tired of blushing, but it came so easily. Bellyn decided her new goal would be to learn to take such comments and compliments in a stride. Bellyn was certainly not used to anyone calling her sweet or her voice lovely.

"If it pleases you and the Lord Amroth, then sing I shall, without hesitation!" Bellyn declared, smiling. She searched her mind for a song she knew, though she knew very few. There is that one song...the one mother used to sing... Bellyn thought, though her heart ached slightly at the memory. Still, Bellyn did not want to deny Liornung what he had asked of her. Her light alto voice started out timidly at first, but she grew in confidence when she thought that she had caught Amroth's attention. She hoped it calmed him, and even if it did no such thing, Bellyn felt better singing than she ever thought she could.

"Hark where the night is falling,
Hark hear the pipes a-calling!
Loudly and proudly calling down through the glen.
There where the hills are sleeping!
Now feel the blood a-leaping
High as the spirits of the old highland men...

Towering in gallant hand,
Gondor my mountain land!
High may your proud standards gloriously wave.
Land of my high endeavor,
Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart forever, Gondor the Brave.

High in the white-topped mountains,
Out by the purple highlands.
Brave are the hearts that beat beneath Gondorian skies.
Wild are the winds to meet you,
Staunch are the friends that greet you.
Kind as the love that shines from fair maidens eyes."

Bellyn sighed, feeling light-hearted and glad that Liornung had asked her to sing.

[littlemanpoet]

Ædegard enjoyed Bellyn's song. It put him in mind of how they had passed the days across Rohan. He wished for that again, but there was much else to think about. He brought his mount over to Liornung.

"Where do you think Amroth leads us? More to the point, what do you think of having such a leader for this group?"

"An odd question, my friend!" Liornung replied. "I had gotten used to thinking of you as our leader!"

"Me!" Ædegard's eyes went wide. He kept his voice down. "I have marked that you have been silent, waiting for me to speak, but I am no leader! Much less with the Elves in our company!"

"You may be right! If you are not the leader of our group, maybe you have time to spare for a small difficulty I have been thinking about lately."

"What is that?"

"When this quest is finished, Argeleafa will have no home to return to, unless she is to rejoin the wayfarers, and she does not want that, I am thinking."

Ædegard glanced at Argeleafa, the Rohirric maiden. She was older than he in years, but maybe not in life's trials. She was fair to look upon, too.

"I will think on this, friend Liornung. It will do me good to have something else besides Amroth to think of all the day."

[Nurumaiel]

"Thank you, good friend," Liornung said, sighing with relief. "You ease my mind greatly. Perhaps we can come up with some solution together." He was at peace once again. True, the difficulty was still there. Ædegard had said he would think on it. He had not given an answer. Yet hope was rekindled and it seemed more than likely an answer would arise. He felt a song rising up at him and, smiling in a carefree way, opened his mouth and let the words tumble forth as a river goes over a brink as a waterfall of sweet music.

Little bird upon your tree
singing so soft and sweet
why do you gaze so odd at me
whenever we two meet?
I admit I look a sight;
dirty and weary is my plight
and stranger still in day's light.
Little bird upon your tree
I beg you stop looking so at me!

Little bird upon your tree
I hear your voice has ceased.
The way you now stare at me
I must be a hungry beast!
Though my face is tired and worn,
my back bent with heavy trials born
and by many men scorned,
oh little bird upon your tree
don't you think better of me?

Little bird upon your tree
now I see you fly away.
So scared you were by sight of me
you could no longer stay.
Now I raise my weary eyes
to gaze upon the cloudless skies
and hope to one day claim as my prize,
little bird upon your tree,
your friendly look bestowed on me.

He finished his song and looked to Ædegard, his eyes twinkling merrily. "Remember our little game?" he questioned. "Perhaps you would care to take your turn!"

[Imladris]

Gwyllion stroked Raefindan's fevered brow, and wondered about him. He had so many strange, delightful words. Where had he come from? His hair was red...yet he had fair skin like her own. So he could not be from the south. Yet he was not from the north either, because the northerners did not have red hair.

Could he have come from across the sea? Her eyes brightened, and her fingers trailed in his hair. What was across the sea? Men with red hair such as his?

He whimpered a little in his sleep, and she touched his forehead again. It was very hot...she wondered how far they would travel today, and if Raefindan would travel easily or not. Turning to Ravion, she asked, "How hard are we going to travel today?"

[Orual]

Ravion ran a weary hand over his own forehead, looking worriedly at the still-unconscious figure of Raefindan. "We will ride as far and hard as we can, but we will not weary ourselves too much," he said to Gwyllion. "The delta is not far away...I hope that we can get there before we have to set up camp. What think you, Mellonin?" He turned to the young man, who, looking pale, was standing close to Raefindan. She looked up at him with her wan face. "Can you hold out until the delta?"

"I can do what I must," Mellonin replied quietly. Ravion frowned, but said nothing. He decided to give her time. Hopefully they could reach the delta without their grief being too validated.

[littlemanpoet]

Her name is Mithrellas, and she seeks for her Mistress, who has become lost in the highlands beneath the White Mountains. Mithrellas has been separated from her companions by evil fate brought upon them by dissonant song falling upon their ears from whence she knows not. She names him he who has saved her life.

A day comes when she is back to full health, save that which only joy can bring to her kind, and she asks him to help her find her Mistress. He gives her a white mare to ride, and he rides his black stallion, and they scour the hills and vales side by side for days into weeks, finding nothing. She names him friend.

At last, winter threatens to surround them, and they return to his home. He is unable to relieve her sorrow, but devotes himself to her in all things. She names him heart's friend.

[littlemanpoet]

"Remember our little game?" Liornung asked. "Perhaps you would care to take your turn!"

"Would you hear one of the lays of Rohan, or shall I try a rhyme after the manner of Liornung?"

"Sing what you like, friend!"

"Let me think on this, and I will, I hope, have a song for you when we make camp tonight."

"I can wait," Liornung replied. "What of you, Bellyn? Argeleafa?"

Bellyn smiled and said that she could wait, but Argeleafa looked startled to have been included, and blushed. It made her seem fairer. Ædegard had been aware of her from the start, and thought her a welcome addition to the party if only because she was Rohirric as was he, but her plight prodded his interest.

"So be it!" Ædegard smiled to each of them, last of all to Argeleafa, meeting her eyes. The smile she returned was brief; she bit her lip her face became sad again. Ædegard bent himself to the task of song.

Night came and the party camped at the edge of Lorien, south of where the Silverlode joins the Anduin. Liornung asked for Ædegard's song.

"I am sorry. I need more time."

The watch was divided between them, and the night passed uneventful.

On the next day, Ædegard rode next to Argeleafa and asked her about her life. She was shy and easily overcome with homesickness. Ædegard told her that he felt the same at times, having left his family back in Edoras. Most of that day was spent in quiet, and sometimes Ædegard rode in front, sometimes near the Elves, sometimes beside Argeleafa.

Liornung reminded Ædegard that he owed them a song.

"I shall have one ready tonight, I am thinking."

The party made camp where the Limlight flowed into the Anduin. The river curved back north and east, around a great rise of land between the north and south undeeps. The Wolds were to their south. Ædegard wondered which way Amroth would lead them now. He was content to let him lead, him and his Elven companion Erebemlin. They sat around the campfire. Ædegard had his song ready.

Fair are the fields of green Rohan,
Warm is the sun that shines on the land,
From mountain to wood, from marsh to river,
Mild is its rain, good grain giver.

Deep in my heart are you, Rohan my home,
Far from your quiet fields now I roam.
In a distant land bends my way,
But I shall return to you some day.

Many tales I shall speak to each friend,
Of stout hearts whose words always mend,
Of loyal friends on the road I did greet,
And a maiden fair it was my joy to meet.

Ædegard had allowed his eyes to wander from face to face as he sang his song. On the last line he looked to the face of Argeleafa, and caught and held her gaze, and did not look away. She had been wiping her eyes while he sang the first lines, but her eyes widened at the end, and they told him that she knew his meaning. She looked away then, and back to him, and away.

"A fine song, Ædegard," said Liornung. "I see you have indeed been giving thought, though the song seems unfinished."

"Aye." Ædegard smiled. "I am not ready to end it yet. It needs time."

[mark12_30]

Ravion led Gond, and Gwyllion and Mellonin walked one on Gond's left and one n Gond's right, watching and listening to Raefindan.

Gwyllion echoed his fevered words in her soft voice. Mellonin listened to them both, and whispered them again to herself.

"Forest. Highlands. Rest. Sorrow. Mithril. Lost. Waiting."

"What is Mithril-lost?" Gwyllion asked. "Who lost it? Did Raefindan?"

Mellonin shook her head. "I do not know."

"Sometimes he sounds happy," Gwyllion said.

She nodded, and reached up and stroked his red, drenched hair. To her surprise, Raefindan murmured snatches of a song she did not know.

Ravion turned back to look at her. "That song is not often sung in our land. Yet I have heard it before."

"Whence comes it?" Mellonin asked.

"The south, where the Anduin meets Belfalas," Ravion answered. "It likens the lover's heart to the surging sea-tide, and the beloved to the moon. It is very old."

"How would he know such a song?" Mellonin wondered.

Ravion replied, "I do not know."

Gwyllion replied, "The lover must be sad, for who can catch the moon?"

Mellonin hid a wry smile. The moonstruck lass was no fool. Gwyllion took a turn at smoothing Raefindan's brow, and Mellonin wondered what young Gwyllion thought of love. Had Gwyllion ever loved a man? Mellonin's own heart had been snared before, for a day, or a year. But each time she held her peace, and each time the shining one slowly faded.

Mellonin gazed for a moment at Ravion's back, and warned herself. What good is it to grasp at the moon? It cannot be caught, or held, or kept; and it is no refuge.

She turned her attention to Raefindan, who had finished his song, and now murmured again.

[Orual]

A frown pulled heavily on Ravion's features. There was no way that Raefindan could have known that song...unless he was much better-travelled than he appeared to be. Or perhaps he had a parent from the south? Unlikely. He had no trace of a Southron's accent. Besides, Ravion was getting that feeling again...the odd one he had gotten when he met Mellonin, that told him something strange was happening.

He touched Raefindan's forehead, which was still very warm. The Ranger sighed deeply, and poured some water on a rag to put on Raefindan's head. The man was still murmuring to himself, though Ravion could not make out the words; however, this was still less disconcerting than the song.

They had been walking for a fair while as Raefindan lay unconscious, and it was beginning to worry Ravion. He was no healer, but he knew that the longer one remained unconscious, the more harm had likely been inflicted to your body...and the more likely harm was still being inflicted. He hoped that Raefindan woke up before nightfall, or he would truly be concerned; a day or more unconscious usually meant real danger. Or so he had heard.

That was what angered him most: he did not know what to do. He literally did not have the knowledge. He could not help Raefindan, except to try to break the fever if it got too high. He did not know how to diagnose or treat this illness, and he wanted too very badly. He wanted to be a leader. Like his father would have been.

He could feel the muscles in his back tighten at the thought. Best to change the subject. "Mellonin," he said quickly, "does Raefindan have a history of illnesses like this? Is this something...chronic? Has he recovered from something like this in the past?"

[mark12_30]

The two elves offered to take the first two watches, and the men happily agreed.

Ædegard bid for the third, but Liornung forbad him. "I shall take the last watch; rest, Ædegard. "

With a wry smile, Ædegard gave way. The horses grazed southeastward where the rivers met. Amroth and Nethwador slept east of the fire towards the Anduin, Liornung and Ædegard westward towards the Limlight, and Bella and Argeleafa on the north side. The elves paced at the edge of the firelight, circling the group, with Erebemlin closely guarding Amroth's dreams.

Nethwador woke often, and twice he sat up. The elves saw that his dark brown eyes fixed on them, and asked him why he did not rest. He brooded, and pointed first to the stars, and then he glanced over at Lady Bella.

"She is well, " Taitheneb assured him. "Fear not." But Nethwador did not lie back down, and glanced now and again at Ædegard and Liornung, and folded his arms across his chest.

"You know of the battle that was fought near here?" asked Taitheneb, in word and thought.

The hatred is old, and deep, replied Nethwador. Taitheneb heard the young, ragged Easterling, and knew his fear of the Rohirrim, and his joy in Lady Bella's dark hair. Amroth, too, had dark hair.

Amroth stirred. Erebemlin placed a hand on his brow til peace returned.

Liornung rose and took the third watch, but the elves did not sleep; the tall one watched over Amroth, and the other, over Nethwador. Dawn came quietly.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Bellyn could not sleep that night. Her mind went over and over how important it was that she get sleep, but something unsettled her and kept her from rest. Bellyn closed her eyes, but remained in the waking world as the elves paced around the sleeping Men. Thoughts of the colors and the imagry she had seen on the trip rolled over and over in her head, as well as the mystery revolving around Amroth and his dreams.

"She is well, " Bellyn heard a voice. She shifted her head to see if she could catch who had spoken, but all she could see was Mellon sitting bolt upright diagonal to her on the east side of the fire. "Fear not." Bellyn heard speaking again and wondered who had spoken. Certainly it was not Mellon... Bellyn thought, but this made her even more curious as Mellon...or Nethwador, as the elves had named him...was the only one Bellyn could see awake.

"You know of the battle that was fought near here?"

No one spoke in answer to the question, but Bellyn wondered at this inquiry. Bellyn knew exactly where on a map the group had settled, and knew the coordinates and surroundings. Bellyn even knew popular myths about many places, but she did not know what battle had been fought near to where the group slept and rested.

Soon Liornung took watch, for Bellyn could see him rise and could hear him whisper to someone that Bellyn could not see. Bellyn tried to sleep at this point, and rested soundly until the first rays of light boldly hit her freckled cheeks. Rising, Bellyn stretched and looked to the elf Taitheneb.

"Sir, what battle was faught close to this place?" she asked, curious and tired.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin shook her head. "Weary and tired, yes, and tormented by the dreams, but not sick like this. I was sick, two weeks ago, but he was not."

Ravion turned keen eyes on her. "You were sick? Not long ago? Why did you not tell me this?"

"Why would I tell you? You did not ask. I slept for three days. I was too weak to stand." Her eyes were like ice, her tone as cold, and her face became a stony mask.

Aeron turned and looked at her, even as Gwyllion peered over Gond's back at her; but her jaw was clenched shut and she fixed her eyes on Raefindan.

[Imladris]

Aeron snorted. What folly was this? A lover's heart a tide, the lover the moon? If he could not gain the woman he loved, why love at all? Why give your heart away to someone who could not -- would not more than likely -- return it? Aeron rolled his eyes and frowned.

And the illnesses...tortured dreams...nightmares, Aeron thought as he peered at Mellonin's stony face. He glanced at Gwyllion. Her eyes were wide, the black pupil swallowing the brown, her mouth parted, and her fingers of her right hand entwining the red hair of Raefindans, while she curled the horses mane in the fingers of her other hand. She looked liked a hungry animal, constraining herself before a tantalizing morsel.

"What dreams, my lady," she whispered.

Mellonin glanced at her. Silent.

Must Gwyllion always ask such things? Things that were foolish, inconsequential...why did she need to know? Why did it matter if Mellonin was sick or not? Everyone became sick. That was that.

[littlemanpoet]

She is ever at his side as they search the hills again in the spring. He has done all he knows to do in caring for her through the winter, and he is hopeful. Whenever she looks at him, a smile comes to her face, and the darkness that stays with her when she thinks of her Mistress, passes for a moment.

Secretly he hopes that she will give up hope of finding her Mistress and choose to stay with him always, but he curbs his hope and does all she asks.

Only from her mouth does his name sound kindly: Imrazor. It is a name from an aged people, a people once great, who had known and ridden the sea. The sea scares her.

[alaklondewen]

Taitheneb smiled at the young woman as he pulled his golden hair taut and replaced the leather tie. “You know naught of the history of the land of which you draw in your maps, Miss Bellyn?” The elf was only jesting, but his words made the young woman blush. “I apologize.” As he spoke he felt Nethwador’s gaze cut through him as though the young boy was protecting Bellyn. “I am not as learned in the history of Men, but I do know of slaughter that took place to our south.”

As he motioned to the area known as the Parth Celebrant, Taitheneb began to tell what he knew of the Northern Army of Gondor and their hopeless battle against the wild men from the East and Orcs from the South. The young woman’s eyes widened as the elf spoke of their desperate call for help.

“Then from the South rode Eorl the Young,” young Ædegard stepped in to Taitheneb’s surprise and relief. “They say that fear flew before him and the enemies fled in panic. It was this feat that gained this land for our people.” Taitheneb noticed the young man pause then add, “My people.”

An awkward silence followed as the basic ethnic differences between the individual travelers was brought forward.

Erebemlin, who had silently watched and listened, spoke up and encouraged the Men to eat quickly and ready themselves for the day ahead. The elf had spoken with Amroth as soon as he had awakened, and it seemed the king wished for the group to travel south along the Anduin. “She has always loved the water” was Amroth’s reasoning, and although Erebemlin was not as confident about finding her there, he agreed to accompany his king wherever the search led him.

Erebemlin continued to contemplate the meanings of Amroth’s dreams, but his reasoning was difficult because he now watched over the king and ensured peaceful, dreamless sleep. He needed to see Amroth’s dark wandering thoughts to fully understand whether he had found the Lady Nimrodel or not, but with Amroth in poor health, Erebemlin did not feel he could speak of it just yet.

[littlemanpoet]

All the day they traveled along the Anduin. The tension did not ease. Ædegard could feel Nethador's eyes boring into his back. Bellyn seemed ill at ease too, and it took all Liornung's mirth to get a smile out of her all the day. Aregeleafa rode alongside Bellyn and kept to herself. She had not said a single word since Ædegard's song the night before. Perhaps he had been wrong to speak so. Or, perhaps it had been the wisest thing to do, for it seemed to show quickly that the future did not hold such a fix to Aregeleafa's problem as he had had in mind. Maybe he was hasty to cast aside such a hope. He did not know her well, and maybe she needed time to think. He warred with himself much of the day whether to say a friendly word to her, or to leave her to herself.

He left her to herself.

They camped the next night at the mouth of the Limlight. The water still bore no ice, but it was cold, and quiet. With water on three sides, Ædegard wondered what way was next.

[mark12_30]

Amroth stood off to one side and gazed southeast, stroking Echo as the rest prepared camp. His mind was closed to his friends, still seeking, combing through dust and ash.

After the other men were asleep, Nethwador settled some forty yards apart from the others toward the north. He sat gazing towards Bella, and kept an eye on Ædegard and Liornung. His lanky chestnut stood near him. Amroth paid him little heed.

Erebemlin approached Amroth. "Rest, my lord."

Amroth's gaze did not change. "Where is she!"

"You have searched all day."

"I have sifted through every pit and heap. She is not there."

"What would you have us do, my lord?"

Amroth still gazed southeast. "After Dagorlad--- Gorgoroth."

"My lord, no song or tale tells of her journeying there."

Amroth's startled gaze pierced Erebemlin. Songs and tales... Tell me of these songs and tales.

[Nurumaiel]

Argeleafa sat close to Bellyn, aware that Nethwador's eyes were fixed on the latter. It made her uneasy, the way he was always staring at Bellyn. She felt an unexplained guilt come over her, and as swiftly it had come it was explained. She had been sorrowful that she had been ignored, yet she had ignored Nethwador very much. It was so hard to speak with him, though. He seemed suspicious of everyone. But she was afraid of the attentions of everyone, despite that she longed for them.

Ædegard.... he had been very kind to her. He had spoken to her almost the whole previous day, though he had not said much to her this day. To speak to her so much... not many people had ever treated her so warmly. She had not said much to him in return. Why? Yesterday night she had come up with many clever, friendly, enjoyable remarks to make in return to his. Why could they not have come sooner? Ah, but so many things to say had come and she had been too shy to speak.

And then he had sung that lovely song. She had never heard it before. But of course she wouldn't have, for he had composed it that very day. She had asked Liornung about it and he had told her about the game they had played. Liornung had not sung his song yet. Perhaps he was waiting for Bellyn, or for her. That was nonsense. No one would want her to sing. Perhaps her voice was well enough, but she did not know of songs to match those that had been sung.

"Nethwador." He turned his eyes to her and she smiled. "Hello," she said. Bellyn started; she had been deep in thought and Argeleafa's voice had surprised her. She also looked at Nethwador and, following Argeleafa's example, smiled at him, yet she looked rather ill at ease. She had seemed uneasy the whole day.

Argeleafa saw that Nethwador's attentions were fixed solely on Bellyn; he would not even look at her. No matter. She had grown used to it. At least she had the consolation she had been friendly. She began to sing in a barely audible voice.

"Deep in my heart are you, Rohan my home,
Far from your quiet fields now I roam.
In a distant land bends my way,
But I shall return to you some day."

[mark12_30]

Erebemlin's dignity prevented it, but he was surprised enough by the question that his jaw nearly dropped. Had they not said on the flet that tales and songs told of her fate? And yet, Amroth gazed at Erebemlin as if this was the first time he or Taitheneb had ever spoken of them.

Erebemlin and Taitheneb exchanged glances. They seemed torn between pity and ire.

[Orual]

Ravion was a little taken aback by Mellonin's curt response. Had he said something? Perhaps he had offended her. What had it been? He didn't know...so he figured the best course of action was to pretend that nothing had happened at all.

Ravion looked up at the sky, and saw that the orange sun was drifting towards the horizon. "Night is coming," he announced. Aeron rolled his eyes.

"Thank you for the startling proclamation," the boy said sarcastically. Ravion cuffed him on the head, and he rolled with it well. He was learning. Aeron rubbed his head a little, but did not make any noises of pain.

"Good job," the Ranger whispered. Aeron rolled his eyes again, but grinned. Ravion smiled at Mellonin, who ignored him. His smile faded, and he went on purposefully to Raefindan.

It was then that his smile faded for true. His red-haired friend was still unconscious, his murmuring and shallow breathing the only signs that he was living. Ravion inhaled sharply to bring down a stab of grief and anxiety, and brushed a lock of red hair from Raefindan's forehead. A forehead that was still warm and dry with fever. The fever was not breaking. Ravion cursed quietly, and brought out some herbs. He tipped Raefindan's head up and put the herbs in the unconscious man's mouth. Maybe it would help break the fever.

"We need to keep moving," he called firmly, trying to distract himself. "Keep going. We can rest after the sun goes down."

[littlemanpoet]

"Deep in my heart are you, Rohan my home,
Far from your quiet fields now I roam.
In a distant land bends my way,
But I shall return to you some day."

Ædegard's hearing was good enough that he could make out the words, though sung as quietly as the winter breeze. He was glad of the darkness, for his chest filled with longing and tears came to his eyes. He wiped his eyes, and the tightness in his chest opened up as he thought about the sweet voice that had brought those words back to him. The maiden of Rohan had heard, and memorized his words! He felt as if he could fly among the stars!

So she was very shy. That was a relief to know. There was hope. He lay down, but sleep was far away. You are not in your right mind! he told himself. Just two days ago, this maiden of Rohan had been on the edge of his awareness, and now she rivaled the quest in his thoughts. Moonstruck is what you are! He rolled over and tried to slow his heart with steady breaths. Admit it, fool of a wheelwright! Love struck is more like it! He pulled a face, then a smile spread across his lips. He closed his eyes and in a short while dozed.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin paced alongside Gond, stroking Raefindan's hair and listening to him murmur. Ravion had picked up the pace yet again, and Gwyllion and Mellonin marched with set jaw ignoring various aches and pains. Mellonin hoped that they would reach the delta soon.

She reviewed Ravion's plan. Seven streams fed the Anduin. The path swung westward to avoid the marshes and swamps. The first stream was not far. She wondered what "not far" meant.

Gwyllion stroked Raefindan's hair. "Listen. He's singing again."

The tide and the moon. Mellonin wanted to learn the song.

No, she didn't.

She bit back tears, and her eyes strayed to the Ranger's back. He was so calm. He handled Aeron well. He was determined to find her brother. And he could be gentle as well as fierce.

"Will he be all right." She regretted saying it. She regretted it even more when the look Ravion turned on her was full of concern. She looked down, but he had seen the tears in her eyes. Inwardly she cursed her clumsiness even as the tears began to roll. She turned her head away.

The strange redhaired man who named dogs Jorje and asked who the king was and did not know how to do simple work-- in just a short time he had become important to her, and now he was, so it would seem, on the brink of death.

You must not die. You must live. Wake up, and let the fever break. Wake up, redhaired man. Wake up, Raefindan, my friend.

She turned her face to the ground, and hoped that no one noticed her tears.

[Imladris]

Gwyllion saw Mellonin turn her face away, and Gwyllion sighed. Raefindan was such a jolly fellow. It would be horrid if he died. Who would tell them all about the strange words he knew?

Creeping towards the woman, Gwyllion saw a tear trickle down her cheek, glinting softly in the lingering light. Touching her shoulder, she turned grasped the end of her shirt and wiped the tears away. Smiling, she said, "Do not cry yet. Raefindan is not dead, thus your tears are early. When he dies, then you must cry. To cry now is to despair of hope, even though there is scarce any hope."

Aeron called over his shoulder, "Crying is silly anyway, whether he lives or not."

Why must he always be so...tactless? Was that any way to treat a grieving woman? No. Merely because crying had not helped him whenever he had cried -- had he ever cried? --, did not mean that crying was silly. "Do not listen to him, my lady," she whispered.

She bit her lips and glanced from the woman to the redhaired man. She remembered Mellonin saying she had been sick. What had happened that shackled her tongue? "What dreams plagued you when you were sick, Mellonin?"

[littlemanpoet]

He slinks behind the big-one-toed-dog. The red man is on that one. He stays to one side. Grainy bigonetoedog how-I-am-fruit misses him. His tail drags in the dust almost. The other mans forget him. He cries with the she-man. Red man is bad feeling in his head. Yorye stays with them. Never leaves!

[mark12_30]

Ravion pointed. "There is the first stream. We'll camp soon." Mellonin couldn't see the stream yet, but she was glad to hear the news. She took a deep shuddering breath and thought of Gwyllion's question. "Dreams. What dreams?" She scrubbed her tears away and composed herself.

"Well, there were dreams of winter. Snow on golden leaves, muffling a wood. Lonely dreams of searching and longing. Then there were dreams of ... of hair in the water; long hair, swirling and moving in the waves; golden hair, dark hair. And then the waves grew wilder, and I thought... I thought I was drowning. And then I realised that I was dreaming of the song that I had taught my brother just before he left... before he disappeared."

"What song was that?" asked Gwyllion.

"The Lay of Nimrodel," Mellonin said. "He loved it. He sang it again and again, and all day at the forge, and we would sing it together at night. We sang nothing else for three days. And then he was gone. I hate dreaming about it. Sometimes I think if I had not taught him that song, he would not have left."

"Would you sing the song for me?" Gwyllion asked, shyly.

Mellonin paused, deciding. And then, "No," she said. "I would rather not. I wish I had never learned it."

[littlemanpoet]

On midsummer's eve they search high in the mountains, near to where the trees give way to the mountain's stark and boney heights. As late afternoon draws toward twilight, they walk in a high sward, feeling the cool, sweet breezes of evening. His heart is hers, and she has known this for months. Still, her duty is to her mistress. But her hope has dwindled. With sun's setting, they stop and watch the stars brightening in the deepened night. Their hands find each other's, and entwine, for the first time. They do not need a roof this night, and lay to sleep among the spikey flowers and grasses and stunted trees of the high slopes. No cloud mars the stars this night. She is sad, and he comforts her, for she does not think her mistress is among the living. Without movement, but in her eyes, he sees the turning in her heart to him, and she wordlessly consents to stay with him, to wife.

[Imladris]

Women. Such sentimental creatures. Aeron rolled his eyes and snapped, "Well that is the silliest thing I have ever heard."

"What do you mean?" asked Mellonin, her brows carving in slight frown. "Can I not be upset?"

Why were his words always coloured with new meaning? Why? Heaving a breath he said, patiently, "Of course you can be upset. But why silently pout at the world because of a little misfortune? The song was beautiful, you said. Why not appreciate it?"

"It brings to mind too many memories."

"Curently it seems that memories are the only thing left to you since your brother has gone," Aeron said. "Content yourself with them just in case your brother does disappear forever."

"Aeron!" Gwyllion snapped.

"I am telling her the truth!" he protested. Who would rather be fed disillusionments instead of the truth? Disillusionments were like cakes that had poison instead of cream within them. Anybody who would rather kill themselves with disillusionments were fools.

"What my brother means to say," Gwyll said, touching Mellonin's arm, "is that Memory fades when it is not visited often. It is like...." she stopped, her teeth gnawing her lips, searching for words, "it is like a flower denied the light of the sun. It is strong and vigorous at first, always there. And then it begins to shrivel, clutching for it's life. It becomes withered, brown, a mere skeleton."

Aeron nodded. His sister understood. "You do not want your brother become dead in both body and spirit do you?"

[mark12_30]

Mellonin turned to Aeron trembling with cold fury. "My brother is not dead, " she hissed. "And if you say that again I will claw your eyes out."

"Calm down, woman," said Aeron with a snort.

"How dare you? How-- dare--"

She flew at him. Gwillion gasped and said "No!" and Aeron dodged as Mellonin clawed at his face. In self-defense he slapped her; she took no heed. Ravion leaped at them, and pulled Mellonin off of Aeron.

"Stop it. Now."

"Raefindan!" Gwillion was wringing her hands as Gond snorted, jigged and shied, and Raefindan slipped sideways. Mellonin struggled in Ravion's grip.

"Get my horse, " Ravion said to Aeron. Aeron lunged clumsily towards Gond's head, and Gond leaped in earnest. Raefindan, arms tied around Gond's neck and ankles tied near the girth, slid sideways and hung against Gond's leg. The horse reared and then bucked.

Ravion dropped Mellonin and tried to soothe Gond, but the horse bucked and screamed. "Whoa. Stand," said Ravion. Jorje whined and barked, and Gond panicked and ran with Jorje running after him. Ravion's shouted commands were drowned out by howls and hoofbeats that receded into the distance.

[littlemanpoet]

In the moments before dawn, the mountains rumble. He wakes to find her standing over him, looking at the cliffs above. The shoulders of the mountain shift in its sleep, and the icey build up of centuries is loosened. A crevasse opens and icey snow pours through, cascading on snowy boulders below. One boulder rocks just enough to loosen from its eons long perch, and begins to roll. It knocks others loose. Moments later, the entire slope is a river of rock and ice and snow, tumbling towards them. She turns, fear in her eyes, and lifts him to his feet. They run down the mountain side as fast as their feet can carry them. They are not fast enough. A stone hits him in the head and he knows no more.

His head hurt. He remembered falling. The ground was still shaking above his head. The rocks were rumbling. Trees were skittering and scattering this way and that, never quite leaving him alone. No, not trees. Horse limbs. The sky was brown and shaking. No, it was earth below him! His head was knocked by another rock. No, a tree trunk, no, horse limb; and a maddened, baying wolf yammered upside down, like a feral bat out of a nightmare, running across the upside down brown sky. His head pounded and his stomach churned, and was getting set to loosen and revolt. This was no good. He wanted his nightmare back. He looked ahead of him, between the two bending and churning tree limbs, with horse hoofs on the end of them instead of tree roots, that touched the upside down sky, and to his dismay, saw a big rock that the tree limbs were not trying to avoid. He twisted his neck as far as he could and strained as much as he could, and lost control of his stomach. But the rock struck the side of his head. The feral upside down wolf stopped yammering, and the day went dark again

She knelt over him in their home, and washed his face with a damp cloth. Peace. The avalanche was far behind them now. She must have come through it unhurt, and had helped him to his horse, and had guided them back home. She smiled at the gratitude in his eyes.

[mark12_30]

"You murmur enough to cast a spell of your own."

Raefindan stirred, and frowned. The voice was male. He opened his eyes. Glimmering in the firelight, a slender elf bent over a bucket of water, rinsing a cloth.

"Who are you?"

"Your unwilling host," replied the elf.

The redhaired man stirred, moaned, and lay still again. Outside a dog whined, and Raefindan spoke. "Jorje...?"

"Your loyal dog? He won't leave even if chased. I tied the horse and washed his wounds."

"Wounds? Is he all right? Where are the others?"

A sharp laugh. "The horse will be well; his wounds were shallow. You ask where are the ones who tied you to the horse? I know not. Nor care, if they but stay away. "

"Tied me?"

"Hands and feet. You have rope burns. Why the horse stayed here, I do not know. But you were dying, and I did not want a mannish corpse near my home."

"Dying..." Raefindan's eyes wandered around the cave. Wetness gleamed on the brown rock walls. There was no musty smell. Moss grew here and there. A chimney of sorts was cut through the rock, and there was a trickle of water into a basin near the door. The door was wooden, and needed repair.

With a lifted eyebrow, the elf wiped Raefindan's brow, face, and neck. "Your fever has broken at last. How weak you men are! You will be on your way soon, I trust."

"I can hardly move, " replied Raefindan.

"Weak indeed," muttered the elf, and went to rinse the cloth. "Yet you shall not stay."

[alaklondewen]

Erebemlin looked to Taitheneb with pleading eyes and then to the bright stars above as silently he asked Elbereth for guidance. Finally he rested his eyes on Amroth. His mighty king…so fiery of spirit and passion gazed out from this young man’s body. Sadness welled up in him as more pieces of this grand puzzle were brought forth in Amroth’s behavior. “Many songs and tales have told of the Lady Nimrodel’s misfortune and how she became lost to the world.”

Amroth tilted his head and look curiously at the elf. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Taitheneb interrupted with a sideways glance toward Erebemlin. “Lord Amroth, you should rest. Tomorrow will be a long day, and you have still not regained your health.”

“Yes, my lord. Why don’t you lay back and rest.” Erebemlin rose and rolled a small blanket from his pack and then placed in beneath Amroth’s head. The elf wondered at how child-like the king was at this moment. Placing his hand gently on Amroth’s forehead, Erebemlin spoke a few soothing words and the king was soon soundly snoozing.

For the remainder of the evening hours, Erebemlin and Taitheneb watched the camp to let the mortals gain their strength through rest. They spoke only in thoughts to one another, contemplating the odd behaviors of Amroth and the tales of Nimrodel, until the dark sky grew pale and strands of light peaked over the horizon.

[Orual]

Ravion's shouts and whistles trailed off as Gond disappeared from sight. "Gond!" the Ranger roared, to no avail. The horse, and Raefindan, were gone.

"We have to follow them," he said unnecessarily. Mellonin, Aeron, and Gwyllion were already prepared. "We have to start now!"

"Can we really catch up to Gond?" Gwyllion asked, a touch of panic in her voice. She was bouncing on her heels, trying to rid herself of her nervous energy. Aeron put a calming hand on her shoulder, but she merely shrugged it off. "I mean, we cannot hope to go as fast as he was going."

"He will not run too far--he was merely spooked," Ravion said hurriedly, starting off at a quick walk. His companions followed him. "Gond knows that he is not to leave without me unless I tell him to. He has been my horse for many years...I am surprised that he has not come back yet." He did not add, unless they've come across trouble.

Gond was a good horse, and well-trained. He would not leave Ravion without good cause. And good cause usually meant bad news.

Ravion broke into a run, his companions trailing a bit behind him. Despite his somewhat small stature, Ravion could make good speed running, and most people usually found it difficult to keep up. His companions, however, driven by concern for Raefindan, managed to maintain a fairly steady distance from the Ranger.

After a little while, he slowed to a walk. He knew he was following Gond's trail, but how long was it? How much distance had the horse put behind him before stopping...if he had even stopped yet? Mellonin, Aeron, and Gwyllion caught up with him, breathing heavily. Ravion did not turn around to look at them. "We may as well walk from here," the Ranger said dully. Aeron frowned deeply, and Ravion could see a protest budding on his lips. "If Gond has not stopped, we will not catch him until he does," Ravion said harshly. "And if he has stopped, we can only hope that he will not start up again, unless it is to find us. He should stay in the same place."

"He should stay in the same place," Aeron parroted angrily. "And if he does not? What then?"

Ravion said nothing for a moment, then, simply, "He will."

He started walking again, slowly, then picking up speed, but not breaking a brisk walk. There was no use in wearing himself and his companions out. Raefindan may be in danger, and if...when...they found him, they would need all their strength.

[mark12_30]

They arrived at the first stream, where they had planned to make camp. But there would be no camp now. The lands were mostly flat, the night was cold and clear, and they could see a fair distance; there was no sign of Gond, Jorge, or Raefindan.

Ravion paused, and glanced back at his three weary friends. Aeron and Gwyllion met his eyes, and Aeron waved him onward. Mellonin did not look up.

They forded the stream. The water was so cold that Mellonin cried, but she did it quietly and no one knew. Gwyllion was less quiet, and Mellonin was glad; Ravion marched onward. Mellonin's legs and back ached more than ever, but she clamped her lips tight and kept up.

I should have made him stay at home.
I should have left Aeron alone.
I should have stayed calm around the horse.
Whatever befalls Raefindan I am to blame.

The stream of bent grasses went northwest through the delta. She bit her lips and tried not to think about how cold her feet were.

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan lay back and thought about his circumstances. His head hurt from a bruise on the side. But the overwhelming sensation was loss. Maybe the dreams had come on the back of a fever, but they touched a deep part of him that he did not often pause to think upon. Mithrellas. He had come to love her! ....as Imrazor. But if she was an elf, did she still live? But that was not the core issue here. Mithrellas was Imrazor's heart's answer. Raefindan had had such a one in his life once, but no more. His eyes welled.

"Save your tears for the dead," said the elf.

Raefindan frowned at the elf. You do not know of what you speak, elf. He kept his thought to himself. He wiped his eyes and tried to sit up, with no success.

"You must remain as you are until I tell you that you are well. You humans never learn."

This elf's way was irritating. Raefindan was not given to dislike, but this elf made it hard for Raefindan to keep his peace. Maybe some pleasantness was in order.

"I am Raefindan. What is your name?"

"You have not earned the right to know it."

"How may I earn it?"

"You cannot."

So much for that. This elf reminded Raefindan of a professor he had known. A professor! He stopped himself in mid thought. Another memory. He was a student at a university! A type of school. When? Where? And what did that have to do with here? Raefindan shook his head and looked around at the rugged walls. He lay his head back and closed his eyes, and thought of his dreams.

[mark12_30]

As the sun came up, Mellonin went down. Gwyllion called Ravion, who turned, and saw Mellonin in a heap under her pack. Aeron reached for Mellonin and swayed, struggling for balance. Gwyllion knelt by her side.

"Go on," Mellonin said. "Leave me."

Ravion slumped, and passed one hand over his brow. "You three stay and make camp, and get some sleep. Aeron, can you track me? Or can you at least follow Gond's hoofprints?"

Aeron shot him a look that said those questions did not matter. The ground they were on was nearly dry. He shrugged off his pack, lay down with his head on it and began to snore.

Mellonin, still without meeting Ravion's eye, struggled to remove her pack. Gwyllion pulled it off of her, and put it under her head, and then removed her own and lay down.

"Try and set a watch, " Ravion muttered to the three sleepers, and then he scanned the horizon. There was nothing to see but swamp and marsh stretching to the horizons.

Loosening his sword in its scabbard, he turned to follow Gond's tracks.

[Imladris]

Sleep... How pleasant the word sounded, whispered in Aeron's mind. But that stupid ranger insisted on tracking the horse. Surely he was just as tired as they? Why did he continue to persue them when it was quite obvious there was no hope of catching them. A few extra hours would make no difference.

What was it the ranger had asked? He had asked for his help...the help of a thief. Aeron grinned. So the ranger was not too proud to ask help from scum such as himself. But...he was so tired. His legs felt as if stones were bound to them, and his eye lids struggled to close.

But if the ranger insisted on looking for that dratted horse that had carried that blasted red head away that had been bloody scared by Mellonin then he could do no less as well. His sister had taken the disappearance of Raefindan hard as well. Poor little Gwyllion...she rather liked the red haired man.

He sighed and struggled to his feet. He nudged his sister with his foot and whispered, "Get up and watch. I am going after Ravion to help him find that Raefindan."

She smiled. Aeron glowered at her and trotted after the ranger.

[Orual]

Ravion's boots thudded dully on the packed earth. The sound echoed in his ears, and despite his attempts to whistle the same old Gondorian marching saw that he had been humming the night he had stumbled across the Seventh Star Inn, he could only hear the sound of his own boots. It was a hollow sound.

He had been to hard on Mellonin, and Gwyllion. Maybe even Aeron. Perhaps if he had not kept them to such a strict, driving schedule...what? What would have happened? Maybe Gond would not have bolted. They certainly would have gotten the encounter with the merchant over with sooner. Why couldn't he have realized sooner that he was pushing them too hard? Who was going to suffer for his mistakes?

Thud. Thud. Thud-thud.

Ravion turned around when he heard an extra pair of boots. He saw Aeron running up to him. "What are you doing here?" Ravion called, crossing his arms, though in truth he was relieved to see the boy. He had a feeling of foreboding about this mission.

"Tracking you," Aeron said. "It seems that I did a fairly good job."

Ravion smiled wanly and clapped Aeron on the shoulder. His smile then faded and he grew somber. "Mellonin and Gwyllion..."

"...can take care of themselves," Aeron finished. "They're fully capable."

"Their what?" Ravion queried, then stopped. He and Aeron fell silent, and Ravion knew that Aeron was realizing the same thing as the Ranger: the boy had picked that up from Raefindan.

"We have to find him," Ravion said quietly. Aeron nodded. "We should not waste any more time." Aeron nodded again, and they set off, trying to find Gond's hoofprints in the silent, untelling marshes.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

The sky loomed dark an ominously as Bellyn sat up from her bed roll. The sun had started to rise just as Bellyn had woken from her dreams. The clouds above her remained a sea of blue-grey morning, rolling like waves to some unknown place beyond the horizon and heavens. In the long, quiet minutes following, a peach-cream pink came to adorn the clouds and seep into the deep violet that had previously dominated the sky. Bellyn felt silly for feeling awed at something so simple that happened every single day, but then she became too wrapped up in noting all the colors of the sky that she could never duplicate, no matter how hard she could try mixing paints.

Soon Bellyn could see birds flying westward, racing against the warm colors of the sun that began flowing away from the east. The edges of the sky were caressed with shades of red, orange, blue, and violet until the lattermost faded into the hazy blue that lightened with every moment of sunrise. In the chill morning, every inhale tasted of fog. Bellyn sighed in the damp thickness of the air.

Shuffling noises brought Bellyn out of her reverie, and she turned around to see Argeleafa waking up. Liornung was in the process of rolling his blankets, and Ædegard was ready and itching for departure. Bellyn could see the elves watching over Amroth, with Mellon-Nethwador by their side. Bellyn wondered at the situation they had all gotten themselves into, and for a moment she wished she could just stay on a hill and watch the entire sunrise, instead of having to go off and find a long-lost love that did not even belong to her heart. Then the young artist and map-maker realized that in her former day-to-day carelessness and stagnancy, she would not have even noticed or cared about the sunrise.

"Where are we going, Argeleafa?" Bellyn asked as she began to pack up her bed roll.

[Nurumaiel]

Argeleafa started but when she saw it was Bellyn who was speaking to her she relaxed and even smiled a little. "I apologize, Bellyn," she said. "I was thinking of something else." She reached over to help the younger girl pack her bedroll. "Where are we going?" she mused. "I really haven't the faintest idea. If you like I'll go ask Ædegard." She stood from her knees and went to the aforementioned Ædegard. Bellyn watched her with a startled but pleased expression. The past day or two Argeleafa had been more friendly... no, perhaps friendly was no the correct word. But the Rohirric maid had been more willing to speak.

"Ædegard." She tapped his shoulder and then blushed in confusion. How many times had her mother told her it was not polite to tap one's shoulder to get attention? But if she was not tapping one's shoulder she was pulling one's sleeve. It would be best, she resolved, to, in the future, keep her hands behind her back so she would not make any such mistakes.

Ædegard had turned. "Good morning, Argeleafa," he said. He did not seem to mind in the least that she had tapped his shoulder. Some people in the past had.

"Good morning, Ædegard," she replied. "Bellyn has asked me where we're going, and I don't know at all. I thought perhaps you...?"

[littlemanpoet]

Ædegard was greatly pleased to see Argeleafa standing before him, wseeking to talk. She was blushing, which made her cheeks rosy, which set off her blonde hair and fair complexion, not to mention red lips, quite prettily. Her hands were held behind her back, which only served to make her the more intriguing. What a fool you are, Ædegard! he said to himself.

"Good morning, Argeleafa."

"Good morning, Ædegard. Bellyn has asked me where we're going, and I do not know at all. I thought perhaps you...?"

He smiled. "I do not know. But I will ask Erebemlin and tell you what I have learned."

"Thank you." Her eyes met his briefly, then lowered with a deeper blush to her cheeks.

"How do you fare, Argeleafa? Did you sleep well?"

"I am well. And I slept well."

"Good. If you have any need, please tell me. I will go ask Erebemlin now. Would you join me?"

Her eyes widened of a sudden and her face turned pale. She shook her head, glancing at the Elf with eyes opened wide in awe. "I do not think...."

Ædegard smiled again. "It is nothing. I have seen the awe of Elves in most other folk, and I do not know why it is not so with me. I will speak with you soon."

She nodded once, met his eyes again, and blushed, a small smile coming to her lips. Then she turned and walked back to Bellyn. Ædegard heard the simple tune again, faint on the wind, as if Argeleafa was catching the words out of the air:

"Deep in my heart are you, Rohan my home,
Far from your quiet fields now I roam.
In a distant land bends my way,
But I shall return to you some day."

With light heart he walked to the Elf, humming to himself,

"Many tales I shall speak to each friend,
Of stout hearts whose words always mend,
Of loyal friends on the road I did greet,
And a maiden fair it was my joy to meet."

He came to Erebemlin.

"Good morning, mellon. Where do we go today?"

[littlemanpoet]

"Mithrellas," The Elf said.

Raefindan looked up. The Elf glowered at him from his seat. Raefindan had been thinking about his dream.

"What about her?"

"You will speak of that to me, human. She was an Elf. What cause have you to think of her?"

The Elf was reading his mind! Most unnerving! He would have to be careful not only of what he said, but what he thought! It would be the most difficult thing he had ever had to do. What if the Elf could force him to think of things he didn't want to think of?

"I dreamed of her."

"Do you know who she was, human?"

"An Elf. She served another Elf lady but lost her in the White Mountains."

"And in this dream of yours," the Elf's tone dripped contempt, "what had you to do with Mithrellas?"

Raefindan narrowed his eyes at the Elf, who was bating him, or worse.

"I think you know already."

The Elf rose and stood over Raefindan menacingly, his eyes narrowed to slits of ill feeling.

"I do indeed, human." The Elf's jaw clenched and his teeth gnashed; his voice came out soft as a hissing snake. "How dare you take an Elf to marry!" The Elf raised his arm to slap Raefindan, but he raised his arms to ward it off. The Elf grinned. "Bodily pain is too good for you." He stalked back to his seat and leveled his gaze at Raefindan, full of rage.

He dreams again, all of a sudden. The Elf forces him asleep, and dreaming, and according to the Elf's will. He is Imrazor again, and Mithrellas is the mother of his two children, a boy and a girl, but Mithrellas is changed this day. She looks at the walls of their home as if her gaze passes through them. She walks out the door; he assumes for fresh air, but minutes pass. He calls for her. There is no answer. Perhaps she has gone walking, as she does from time to time. Hours pass. He seeks her. She is nowhere to be found. She is lost to him and his heart breaks, for even as he dreams that he is Imrazor and has lost Mithrellas, he is aware that it is the Elf that forces him to see, and whispers into his dream that he never deserved her, and that he is now cursed for having taken her, and he will never know happiness again.

[Orual]

"I am not entirely sure that I like this place," Ravion said darkly, shouldering his pack. Aeron glanced at him in disgust.

"Well, I am entirely sure that we have no choice but to go on," Aeron snapped. They had not been walking long, but it seemed long enough. "Raefindan is counting on us, right? So we cannot turn back."

"Did I suggest that we turn back?" Ravion exclaimed irritably, throwing his arms into the air in exasperation. Aeron shrugged, but did not reply. Ravion sighed. "I am sorry, Aeron. I just hope that we find Raefindan and Gond soon."

"Do you think his fever has broken?" Aeron asked. Ravion sighed and shook his head. "You do not think his fever has broken?" Aeron persisted, for clarification.

"I do not know," Ravion said. "He was showing no signs of coming out of his sleep. It has not been that long."

"It has been long enough for something to have happened," Aeron said. Ravion glanced at him, and the boy quickly added on to his statement: "Anything, something good included."

Ravion passed his hands over his face and through his hair, which was growing longer than he liked it. His fingers snagged in knots and tangles. Everything seemed to be falling apart: this mission, his friends, himself, physically and emotionally. With these thoughts in mind, he was not paying much attention when his foot caught on a small indentation in the ground.

He caught himself quickly, but examined the mark. "This is Gond's!" he exclaimed. He gestured for Aeron to follow him, and took off at a jog. He wanted to make sure he did not miss any of Gond's prints.

He had not gone far when he heard a low whinny. He rounded a corner and saw his horse. "Gond!" he called, and the horse looked up sharply. He gave a loud neigh, and cantered up to his master. Ravion stroked his neck and spoke into his ear. "Raefindan, Gond. Where is Raefindan?"

Gond looked at him with soulful eyes, as though to say, "We can just go. That would be fine," but turned and trotted back to a small house. Ravion turned to Aeron, putting his hand on his sword hilt meaningfully. Aeron nodded.

Slowly, Ravion approached the house. His knuckles were white as he gripped his sword. Whatever had Raefindan, if it meant any of them ill, it would meet with his sword. He looked to Aeron and mouthed a count to three, then burst into the house.

"Raefindan!" he cried as he burst through the door.

He stared at the scene ahead of him. He had not known what to expect. But he had not expected this.

[littlemanpoet]

He walks among the mountains, high above their home. He holds in his hand a tatter of her garment, which he had found hanging on a branch; torn, as if she were in too great a hurry, and could not or would not pay it mind to go back and retrieve it. Chased? Chasing another, so focused on whom she followed that she cared not to retrieve the fragment? He finds one shoe caught in a cut of rock standing up from the ground. This tells no more than the tatter. He comes to a cold, shallow lake, before which is cast off, the other shoe. She has waded or swam across to the fir tree lined far side. He follows, his clothes wet to his chest by the time he reaches the far shore. Through the trees that grow close about. He comes to a stone wall, a cliff, perhaps, for it is not made by men. There is a way through, narrow as the width of a human, or elf, walking, and it is closed overhead. He passes through, and stops. Before his feet is a gorge, and the path is just two feet wide, following the gorge to either side. To his left is an Elf, his eyes are slits, and his mouth is gritted in ill will. He knows this Elf, not by name, but by mien.

"Look down, human!"

He drops to the ground, convinced that if he walked up to the edge, the Elf would push him. He slides up to the edge and peers over the edge. Hundreds of feet below lies a body. It is she.

"No!" He raises his head, his eyes blurred with sudden tears; the Elf's features are unclear. "You pushed her over!"

"Fool. This is a dream. Have it so if you wish, but now you know her end. You deserve to know what you have done to her by winning her heart, human. You killed her."

He wept.

There was a crash. "Raefindan!" The voice was familiar to him, but he did not care. He couldn't believe that he had killed her, but his heart believed it, even if he could tell himself otherwise. His love had died. Just like the other time.

"Mithrellas!" 0h Angela!

[mark12_30]

Raefindan lay on a bed, eyes unseeing, despair in his face. Ravion stood at the door, blade drawn. Between him and Raefindan stood a slender darkhaired elf. The elf did not smile.

"What! Has my home become a highway for ruffians and tramps? Begone, vile manling! Or perhaps you come for the sick man, " he spat.

Ravion stepped into the cave.

"His plight moves you to pity, does it not? It should. Pitiable indeed." His voice was ice cold.

[alaklondewen]

Erebemlin looked up at the young man from his position on the ground, but continued his task of packing. “Good morning, young Ædegard. We shall continue following the Anduin today. Lord Amroth believes it possible that the lady may have gone there seeking the music of its waters.”

Ædegard nodded in response and said, “I hope he is right in his thinking.”

“Aye, so do I…so do I.” Erebemlin closed his pack and rose, towering over the young man. “Can you assure the others are ready to leave? We must start early for our journey shall be long.” How long…Erebemlin was afraid to say. In his heart he felt that they would not find the lady by the river, yet something kept him from dissuading Amroth from his choice of direction…

“Yes, of course,” Ædegard answered. “They are nearly ready now.”

“Very well, then…shall we?” With those words the elf lifted his pack and readied his horse, awaiting the others to follow his lead.

[mark12_30]

Amroth packed Echo's saddlebags, and leaped elf-style into the saddle with less than elvish grace. Ædegard smiled wryly.

"You could mount like a normal man."

"I am not a normal man," Amroth retorted.

Ædegard glanced keenly at him, and Amroth smiled. "I would take the saddle off but that the bags are strapped to it."

"That is my father's saddle, " Ædegard replied.

Amroth's smile faded, and he nudged Echo closer to Ædegard.. "I mean your father no ill. You have been a loyal and good friend and ally, and I am in debt to you I fear beyond what I can pay."

Ædegard shrugged, and then said, "What happened to his bridle?"

"It is in the saddlebag," Amroth said, pointing.

Ædegard nodded, and walked back towards Argeleafa. Amroth watched him go.

Echo, feeling Amroth's eagerness, tossed his head and jigged. The other horses were not all so eager, and Amroth knew that the slower horses must set the pace; but he wished he could give Echo his head. The young firebrand could run well.

Fresh from a night of nearly dreamless sleep, Amroth bent his thoughts southward, and hunted along the Anduin on both sides. There was no sign of her, again. Next he scanned Dagorlad; again, there was no sign of her. With a sigh, he turned his thoughts towards Gorgoroth. There was much less darkness than he expected to find; there were only echoes of malice and shadows of shadow, hidden pockets of evil rather than brazen armies. He thought it odd, and decided to ask Erebemlin about it later.

For now all that mattered was Nimrodel.

Echo's stride lengthened steadily, til the troop was strung out at an easy run. It was not long before Erebemlin and Taitheneb took the lead, and slowed their horses, giving the group a rest. Echo snorted his ire, but Amroth hardly noticed. He could all but taste the acidic fumes and the blowing ash and dust. His stomach turned. There was far more dusty, ashen ground to search in Gorgoroth than there had been at Dagorlad. He began at the eastern extreme, and worked his was slowly westward; it seemed more hopeful than going the other way.

[Orual]

Ravion gripped his sword until his knuckles cracked when he heard the elf speak. Ruffians and tramps...and Raefindan spread across the bed. He looked like he had woken from his fever, but was now sleeping again, and his dreams seemed nightmarish. He extended his sword-arm towards the elf. "We have come for our friend," he said, his voice quiet but fierce.

The elf laughed mirthlessly. "Ah, his friends. You tied him to a horse and left him for dead, yet now you want him back?"

Ravion dropped his sword to the ground. "Ravion," Aeron said, quietly, warningly, anxiously. "Be careful!"

"It would benefit you to listen to your younger, wiser friend," the elf said. He glanced at Aeron briefly, then at Ravion's sword on the ground, and then back to Ravion. "Disarming yourself before a potential enemy is unwise, would you not say, Ranger?"

"I would say that I do not need my sword," Ravion said, and lunged at the elf, ignoring Aeron's alarmed cry of his name.

He tackled the elf to the ground, landing several blows before the elf regained his equilibrium. The elf, at first, merely held Ravion off, blocking his swings and evading his blows. Then Ravion managed to land one more, a good blow right to the elf's stomach. The elf grunted, and then launched into an offensive.

As Ravion fought, his thoughts raced. Who was this elf? What was he doing with Raefindan? Was he truly their enemy? He seemed hostile enough. Was that a good enough reason to attack him? He felt a blow connect soundly with his left cheekbone, and reeled. He staggered to his feet, and stumbled back into Aeron. The boy caught him and helped him regain his balance.

"Easy," Aeron said softly, his own eyes burning into the elf, who was righting himself. "The last thing we need is a fight."

"We just had one," Ravion grunted.

"Another one, I mean."

Ravion shook himself, and, picking up his sword, stood before the elf. "I was..." He stopped again. What was he supposed to say? He was not going to apologize. If the elf had been giving Raefindan aid, he should have been less hostile. "If you have helped our friend, you have my thanks. But you have not shown us yet that you should have our trust. What reason can you give me not to resume our fight, but now with my sword?"

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung noticed that Amroth was not at ease. He never had been at ease from the beginning of the journey but there was something more now. Bellyn rode not too far from him, and Nethwador at a close distance to her, watching the others warily, with an occasional fond glance at Amroth. Ædegard rode by the Elves, when the latters' horses were slowed enough for the others to catch up, and Argeleafa rode close to him yet not too close. From time to time she would cast a shy, awe-filled look towards the Elf. Liornung saw that she wanted to ride closer to Ædegard but was hesitant about going too near the Elves. Poor little girl. She just wanted someone to protect her and Ædegard had done so much in protecting them all thus far. And then Ædegard cast a look behind him, saw her hesitant expression, and slowed his mount so he was riding beside her. She blushed shyly but her expression of hesitance changed to an expression of pleasure.

"And there's something in the wind," Liornung murmured under his breath. "With Ædegard it is obvious. Argeleafa I am not so sure... She keeps so very much to herself and hides her feelings... but I have a suspicion..."

"Did you say something, Liornung?"

He turned and smiled at Bellyn. "Yes indeed, I did, though I was merely speaking to myself," said he. "The matter I was pondering is one that might have come to your attention while watching Ædegard and Argeleafa." He said no more but looked again to Amroth. The latter had often been calmed by songs, and he faintly recalled that it was his turn in the game of rhymes to sing. And so he began.

"I first saw you, sweet maid,
sitting on a lonely stone wall,
and you wept with sorrow and grief,
and heard the mourning bird's call.
I was stricken by your fair beauty;
hair of gold and skin so white,
cheeks of rosy hue and clearly
did I see your eyes so bright.

I watched as you lamented
over all your home long gone
and wept at your deep sorrow
and your mournful, haunting song.
I gently stepped up to you
and questioned you as to your sorrow
and you told me your home
you would leave behind on the morrow.

Your father will take you with him
when he leaves his home
and away with the wayfarers
he will ride off to roam.
And you would have no place
if you dared to remain
and o'er your head would be no roof
not in snow nor in rain.

And I, so stricken by your beauty
could not watch your grief
I took your hand and led you away
for in love I've always had belief.
And I asked you to wed me
and stay with me forever
to honor and to please thee
would ever be my endeavour.

And your eyes when you heard
were like stars in the night
but you turned away from me.
You did not think it would be right
for you had known me but a minute
and could not wed me for that time
but bid me court you for a month
and in that time you would be mine.

Maiden fair, I await the day
when you at last shall be mine.
All my treasures that I own,
my very heart shall be thine.
Fair maiden, how I love thee so!
Until you're mine I know no rest
so them come to me, maiden fair,
for I'm the one who loves you best."

[mark12_30]

Nethwador listened to Liornung's song, and watched Lady Bella's face; she smiled, sometimes, and sighed sometimes. She did not stray far from Liornung's side. In the front of the group, Echo's cream-colored mane and tail and the flowing golden hair of Erebemlin contrasted with the dark hair of Amroth... Dark hair like mine. It was a happy day when I found Amroth.

And Bella's hair was dark too. Riding a little behind her, he watched how her hair shimmered in the wind, and wished he could comb it for her.

Liornung finished his song, and Bella smiled at him.

I will learn to sing. Perhaps then she will smile at me.


'******************


They halted at noon and unbridled the horses while they ate. Erebemlin spoke to Echo, and halted him; Amroth was glad. He looked down at the nearby river as one awaking from a dream, and at the relief of seeing green grass he dismounted, reached down and caressed it.

"You are weary, my lord Amroth." Erebemlin's face was grave. In answer, Amroth lay down and gazed into the heavens.

"You must eat. We will bring you fruit, lembas, and river water. Perhaps you should taste miruvor as well."

Amroth raised his hand. "I need not eat. I have eaten ash all morning."

Erebemlin shook his head. "Breathe the river-air, my lord, for dine you must or you will ail again. Rest now."

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung cast his eyes over their company as they sat for their lunch, and he smiled in deep fondness. Rarely had he met such interesting personalities, such kind and open personalities. At least kind. Argeleafa was not open to them. Not yet. And they could all sing, too. A trace of smugness crept into his smile then. All of the company had sung at least once... except Nethwador. In truth he had never heard Nethwador even speak. Liornung had made friends more or less with all the members of the company except Nethwador. He had half-ignored the boy. It was difficult to make friends with him, though. He was fond of Bellyn and Amroth, but of the others he was suspicious.

But it was no matter. Liornung had been in the company of the suspicious before.

He drew forth his fiddle from his pack and smiled at Bellyn, who was sitting close to him. She looked up into his face and returned the smile, the expression on her face half-questioning as she wondered if he would sing again. Liornung gestured to Argeleafa; shyly she came to him. Liornung smiled smugly again. This was the way he was meant to be... seated upon the grass with people gathered about him, looking earnestly up into his face and hoping for some show of his music. He set his fiddle on his knee and held it as one might hold a lute. "Well, lassies, have you ever heard a fiddle played in such a manner as this?" His fingers sought out the strings and placed themselves upon them. The bow lay untouched on the ground beside him. He ran the nails of his right hand down over the four strings of the fiddle. "See, I can play like a lute, only it brings a more careless, airy, childish sound. Listen." He began strumming an amusing little tune and soon began to sing.

"Oh there's an old man upon the road
panting under his weary load!
Mamma, mamma, mamma dear,
let the old man come in here.
La-dee-dally, mamma dear,
let the old man come in here."

"Oh there's a poor dog in the evening late.
By his thinness I fancy he hasn't ate.
Mamma, mamma, mamma dear,
let the poor dog come in here.
La-dee-dally, mamma dear,
let the poor dog come in here."

He stopped and was delighted with the laughter of the two girls. "It's an old song I used to sing when I was a child," he said, "and some children of Rohan sing it even now. It's very long and about all the unfortunate people the boy in the song sees. It begins with the old man in the morning and ends with the dog in the evening. Out of the goodness of her heart the mother lets them come in and at the end the house is full. I'll sing you the whole song someday, but I cannot now. It is very long and it has been many years since I last sang it. I would have to bring it back to my memory."

Ædegard, not too far away, was chuckling over the song and Liornung heard. He looked over the rest of the company to see if any others had enjoyed his song, and his eyes fell on Nethwador, who had been listening intently and gazing at Bellyn. He suddenly felt an urge to befriend this lad. He had a nephew who he fancied would someday be a bard, and he enjoyed teaching him in his spare time. Perhaps Nethwador would enjoy learning the art of the fiddle. Gesturing, he called softly, "Mellon... Nethwador! Come here and sit with us and I will teach you to play the fiddle."

[mark12_30]

Nethwador jumped up and his dark brown eyes flew open wide. The whites of his eyes shone against his tanned skin, and he drew away at first. Then he paused.

Taitheneb spoke. "He offers to teach you music."

Eagerness grew, wrestling with a deep-rooted wariness. His eyes darted from Liornung to Taitheneb, and back, and then to lady Bella. She sat still, watching.

Liornung beckoned with his hand. "He's just as wild has he was before we got to Lorien."

"No," whispered Bella. "Not quite."

Taitheneb spoke again. "Liornung will teach you music, if you will learn it from him."

Nethwador took one cautious step towards the three sitting on the grass, and another, eyes flicking often between Taitheneb and Liornung. His every muscle was taut.

"Pig? Feh. He's more like a wolf, " muttered Ædegard.

Nethwador inched steadily closer, and Liornung hummed a few more verses to pass the time. Finally Nethwador stood five feet away, and halted, eyes darting between Liornung and Bella.

They were all startled to hear Amroth's voice ring out. "If they hurt you, I will beat them myself. Sit down, and hold the viol as gently as you would hold a bird."

Nethwador looked toward Amroth. The tautness left his body and the fear left his eyes. Straightening, he nodded, and stepped forward, and sat down crosslegged between Liornung and Bella. He looked from his face to hers, and then at the ground.

[Imladris]

A splash awoke Gwyllion from her deep sleep. A fish maybe? A great fish with bugging eyes, white flesh, and cruel, jagged teeth? She shuddered. Or could it be something worse? And if it was something worse, was it better to roll over and go to sleep, thus presenting an easy target if it happened to be hungry, or to go and face it straight on, with an imaginary sword in hand?

She struggled to her feet and stumbled forward as her legs loosened. Soft, white mists curled from the swamp, and it reeked with a foul smell. Clouds of blood sucking winged insects scuttled away and the chirping of the frogs wavered, and then faded.

She shivered, hoping that her presence had cowed them to silence. But...birds did not silence themselves within forests when she appeared.

Splash

She tried to laugh. 'Twas nothing. Hopefully. Probably not. No, it could not be nothing. Did fish live in swamps anyway? She could not remember.

Something black slithered through the scraggling weeds. A snake...an innocent harmless snake. Snakes were nasty creatures. They crushed their prey and stuck their forked tongues out at you. She moved her foot away.

The black thing lunged at her, curling itself about her ankle, dragging her foot into the murky water. Gwyllion screamed as she glimpsed the massive, shimmering black head of a monstrous brute.

Her skin burned and she felt her muscles relax, whispering, like a lover, of sleep and relaxation. It was useless to struggle....struggling could not help her...

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung regarded Amroth gravely and gave the slightest nod of his head. "Thank you, Lord Amroth," he said, and turned to Nethwador. Gently and slowly he took Nethwador's hands and placed the fiddle in them, as though he were using the utmost care to give a child some candy, a child that was frightened and did not know he meant good. And just as gently and slowly he guided Nethwador's hands to hold the fiddle. "Now put it to your shoulder," he said softly, "or rather so it is more between your shoulder and your throat. Hold it with the left hand as this; you will have balance of your fiddle as well as being able to play the notes on the strings with ease. Put your chin here." Liornung taught him with great patience, but he was surprised to see that Nethwador understood perfectly and acted to his instructions with remarkable swiftness.

Liornung gestured to Bellyn, who gave him the bow, and he placed it in Nethwador's right hand. "Now hold it like this," he said, "and try not to touch the hairs with your fingers. Now run the bow gently over this string here, at this spot." Nethwador did as he was instructed and while the note was clear and distinct the sound was rather scratchy. Liornung nodded approval but Nethwador looked confused. "It's all right, lad," said Liornung. "You cannot expect it to sound wonderful the first time. In time you will produce as clear and fine a note as I, if not more so. And now let me show you how to play these other notes...." Some time passed as he did this and as Nethwador practiced, and then at last Liornung nodded. "Now you will play those notes again and again in that order while Bella sings," he said. "You will not be playing the tune of her song, but you will provide a lovely accompaniment."

"Which song is it you wish me to sing?" questioned Bella.

"The one you sung before," Liornung replied. "It ran thus..."

"Hark where the night is falling,
Hark hear the pipes a-calling!
Loudly and proudly calling down through the glen....

"And so on. Will you sing it?"

She nodded, and Liornung spoke to Nethwador once again. "Play the notes in the order I showed you as an introduction. After you play them once continue on, but after that first time through Bellyn will begin to sing. Now..." Nethwador glanced at Bellyn and then began. The sound was still scratchy at some times, and wispy at the others, but the noise was sweet to Liornung's ears. He had taught many young people how to play the fiddle but every time it was a joy. When Nethwador played the notes the first time round and then continued on as Bellyn began to sing. All of the company fell silent to listen, and when Bellyn's voice ceased to sing Nethwador played the notes twice again before letting the last note dwindle away. Tears were openly in Argeleafa's eyes, and there was a suspicious glint in Liornung's own eyes. He ducked his head and ran a hand across his face, and when he looked up his eyes were dry. He smiled and said one word. "Beautiful."

[mark12_30]

Nethwador sat quite still, holding the viol under his chin, yet gently as if holding a bird. His eyes flicked toward Amroth, and then toward Taitheneb, who had been translating with osanwe for Nethwador the entire lesson. Then he looked toward lady Bella, who had handed him the bow. She smiled, nervously.

Slowly, as if Bella were a bird that might fly away, he lowered the bow and offered it to her. She glanced at Liornung, who nodded, and Bella accepted it.

She was surprised when the fiddle followed the bow, and began to protest. But moving slowly and gently, Nethwador shifted til he knelt beside her, and guided the fiddle til it rested under her chin. Liornung laughed, and then shot a suspicious glance at Taitheneb; but Taitheneb looked surprised too; it was Amroth who seemed to take no notice.

Nethwador was indeed treating Bella as gently as if she were a bird... a tiny, delicate bird. Liornung watched closely but did not intervene while Nethwador repeated his own lesson to Bella, and she learned the same notes.

[mark12_30]

Deep in her dreams Mellonin heard a scream, and she moaned. Not more torment! Drowning... another drowning dream. She heard gurgling noises, and struggled to wake, to escape the dream, to breathe again. She sat up gasping for breath.

But the screams had not stopped, nor the splashing. She struggled to her feet barely in time to see Gwyllion disappear beneath the water.

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung gazed in complete awe as Nethwador gently instructed Bellyn. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and it was plain to see the joy the boy felt in teaching the Lady Bellyn. He had never ventured to move so close to her before, and know he knelt right beside her. She seemed tense at his nearness but was slowly becoming absorbed in her lesson.

It was a beautiful picture the two made... both were like little birds, more than a little afraid of each other. If either one made a sudden move the other would flit away in panic. But both were acting very quiet and gentle and soft, so as not to frighten the other. Liornung found he could not think of anything to say to encourage the two in their lesson, so he merely fell back quietly to sit beside Argeleafa, who had moved closer to Ædegard to ask him what he had thought of the song.

He would sit and wait. He would not intervene on the lesson but would see how it played out. He did not wish to disturb the two little birds. It was too fair a sight.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Bellyn did not dare move with haste, and only moved when Nethwador instructed her to do so. The notes did not come out clear, and Bellyn almost felt embarrassed when the scratchy, rought notes flowed out into the air. The notes came out slow and steady as Nethwador guided Bellyn's hand that held the bow. Bellyn did not learn as quickly as the dark boy had, and this flustered the Gondorian girl, for she could feel all the eyes of her companions on her and Nethwador.

She practiced the notes Nethwador had taught her slowly, and the boy nodded as she recited the sounds. If she made a mistake, she searched valiantly for the right note, using only her ears until Nethwador would kindly and timidly step in to rearrange her left hand on the fingerboard. Bellyn did not understand the music that came out of the little fiddle, for she did not understand music as Liornung did. She did not know how the music came out of the wooden thing, and why the notes sounded so well together. Yet somehow the music sounded lovely and felt wonderful in her hands instead of within her own voice.

Nethwador gestured his hands for Bellyn to pick up speed in the little tune, and gradually Bellyn played the same tune Nethwador had. Her version just sounded a bit more screeching and, to Bellyn, less pleasing to hear. When Bellyn had played the tune a few times over, she slowly pulled the fiddle from its resting place between her chin and shoulder. She looked to Nethwador and smiled happily, pleased that she could actually pull a tune out of something so complicated and also appreciative of her teacher.

"Now, if only we had two of these," Bellyn examined the viol with a great grin on her face. "Would that not be wondrous? It would sound lovely and harmonious, I imagine, having two playing the tune. Liornung and Nethwador could play..." Bellyn paused, looking away from Nethwador and the fiddle for just a moment. "...and Argeleafa could sing! It would lighten our hearts and lift our spirits, certainly."

[mark12_30]

Nethwador did not move, basking in lady Bella's smile. He could not remember when he had been so happy.

I can never repay you.

Amroth smiled. No, you cannot. But she has, with the smile she has given you. I am content.

I wish I knew her language. Can you not teach me? Can you not speak through me to her?

Amroth's smile faded. You must show her your heart without words. I will not speak through you. He smiled again. Yet you need not fear, if you continue as gently as you have begun.

[Imladris]

Obviously the hostile elf was at a loss for words. What was it the elf had said? Some vile insinuation about them being friends with Raefindan. "Well," said Aeron, plopping himself upon the floor and curling his feet under him, "I do believe it is a bit unfair of you to say that we are poor friends. Do you know the circumstances of the situation? I think not. Maybe it was a complete accident and that the horse -- blast his stupid brains -- just trotted --"

Ravion nudged him and mutted, "Galloped.."

"Eh, that's right -- galloped away." Aeron stopped and glanced at Raefindan. He was inclined to believe that the elf had been helping him just because he was simply an elf. Would an elf let a man die? Aeron rolled his eyes up and considerred...no...that would be against the elf's nature, wouldn't it? Of course it would...

"I say --" he stopped and blushed. Yet another of Raefindan's odd, but pleasant sayings..."I say --" it felt good to say it and deserved to be said more than once -- "why don't we just sit down like a couple of gallant lords, and talk this over calmly. Normally I am not one to cry nay to a fight, but fights are so time consuming and you being an elf and all it just wouldn't be right."

[littlemanpoet]

"Where are Mellonin and Gwyllion?" Raefindan asked.

He was greatly relieved at the presence of Ravion and Aeron, and was pleased that they were getting along well; at least, as well as could be expected. Raefindan suppressed a chuckle at Aeron's I say. But Raefindan's mood was not light. This Elf had invaded his mind, and showed him things he wished he did not know. But of greatest concern was the safety of the women. Or girls. He would have to ask them what they wished to be called, then laughed at himself at the obvious answers: Mellonin and Gwyllion. A rose by any other name and all that.

Ravion answered him. "They wait for us some way back."

"It is not safe to leave them so," Raefindan said, flicking a glance at the most unsafe creature he could remember having met, which wasn't such a great stretch considering his general loss of memory. In fact, the only person he had to compare the Elf to was the merchant, who was small fries compared to the Elf. Small fries? What were fries? No image came to mind to provide a clue. He struggled to his feet. "We need to go back and find them." He eyed the Elf.

"Go on with you then, and take your foolish, mannish hungers with you. You shall not die, though these your friends almost killed you."

"Almost killed!" Aeron was on his feet in a moment. "You do not know the circumstances! You have no right to judge!"

"Pray do not tell me your so called sir come stances, for I care not how you humans name each other, nor how you come and go, nor where you stand, as long as it is outside the walls of my home."

Raefindan grinned at Aeron's use of the word. That which surrounds the current stance. He knew that he could never explain how such a word could mean such a thing, but there it was, and he agreed with the Elf this time.

"Let us leave here, friends."

"Aye," said Ravion. "We came to find you and Gond-"

"And Jorje!" Aeron grinned.

Ravion smirked. "-and Jorje, and have found the three of you. Let us return to Mellonin and Gwyllion."

Ravion led them outside.

[mark12_30]

"Gwyllion!"

Melonin ran to the water's edge, looking this way and that. The water was black and there was no sign of Gwyllion.

Mellonin's thoughts raced. Bubbles! The bubbles will tell me where she is!

But there were no bubbles to be seen. Horror rooted her to the ground; panic rose in her heart. She screamed, but there was no one to hear.

[Orual]

"We were fortunate that Gond had not gone any further," Ravion said, trying to sound somber, but unable to keep the smile off his face, or the relief out of his voice. "We were tracking Gond's hoofprints. If he had kept going, we might never have found you."

"Your tracking senses do not extend to inside houses?" Aeron asked jovially. Ravion glanced at him sideways.

"I would be able to find you, so put whatever thoughts you have of running off out of your mind, and--"

He broke off abruptly as they neared the campsite. "Where is Gwyllion?" he asked, his voice tense and a terrible feeling of panic growing in him. "Mellonin? Gwyllion? Answer me!"

"Ravion!" Mellonin's cry carried over to where the men were standing, and Ravion, throwing Gond's lead to Aeron, raced over to her. There was Mellonin, but still no sign of Gwyllion...

"Where is Gwyllion?" Ravion asked, trying to keep his own panic in check. Mellonin was shaking, and if both of them were unable to do anything...

"There," Mellonin replied vaguely, waving her hand over the edge of the water that she was standing in front of. "I cannot see anything. I cannot find her."

Ravion looked at the water anxiously. "Raefindan! Aeron!" he bellowed, and heard them come running. He looked once more at the water, then turned to Mellonin. "When they come, tell Aeron to join me. Do not let Raefindan! He is not strong enough yet."

He took one deep breath, closed his eyes, and dove into the water.

The water felt icy as he started swimming, trying to open his eyes despite of the dirt and cold. He could not see anything. He surfaced for air, gasping. "Anything?" Mellonin called.

"Not yet," Ravion called back. He dove back under.

He could not see anything. A constricted feeling tightened his chest, born both of frustration and of his inexperience in swimming. He had started back up when something brushed his ankle.

He thrashed around for a moment in panic, then calmed down. He surfaced briefly, ignoring this time Mellonin's call, and went under. This time he forced himself to open his eyes, and saw...something. A large black shape, and a smaller shape. Vague, certainly, but at least it was something. He tried to tred the water for a moment, attempting to get a better picture. He squinted, trying to see...

...something caught his ankle. It wrapped itself around him, jerking him down suddenly. Fighting against it, Ravion managed to surface for a moment. "Aeron!" he cried, and only managed to take one deep breath before the creature pulled him under again.

[alaklondewen]

Taitheneb leaned back in the grass with his weight on one elbow. Slowly he nibbled on a small piece of lembas bread while he watched the young people with the musician’s instrument. Throwing a glance over his shoulder he saw Erebemlin stretched out on his back looking to the sky. Taitheneb followed his gaze. A few wispy clouds glided across the heavens, but the younger elf was more interested in watching the young humans. “They have..." The elf paused to find the right word for his thoughts. "...harmony. Do you see it?” He whispered over his shoulder, but kept his eyes on Nethwador and Bellyn.

Erebemlin shook his head as though he were pulling his thoughts from somewhere else. “What, mellon? Harmony? Who?”

“The young ones…have you not seen the way they have worked together here.”

Erebemlin pushed himself up to his elbows and looked to the group of mortals. He saw them sitting while Nethwador and the lady Bellyn produced rough notes upon Liornung’s fiddle.

Taitheneb waited until he knew the other elf was looking and then continued. “They move together like a dance. Each is afraid of the other, yet enchanted in a way that they cannot remove themselves.”

Erebemlin shook his head again and chuckled slightly. “You care too much for the ways of the mortals, mellon.”

Taitheneb turned and studied Erebemlin’s face. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then quickly closed it, returning his gaze to the young humans. The elf knew Erebemlin had never married, nor found a love beyond his duty. Taitheneb on the other hand understood the beauty and wonder of eternal love…not that these young humans had found this sort of love, but they may if they continue to work and grow together.

Now Taitheneb lay back, putting his head on the prickly grass. Closing his eyes he pictured Gwaewen’s smooth and glowing face. Her eyes had always lit up when she saw him, and he would tremble when she held his hand. He missed her terribly, but he knew they would meet again upon the shining shores. Until then, he would patiently wait, feeding on his memories.

Whether he had lain there a very few minutes or an hour when Taitheneb felt a gently hand on his arm, he knew not. Opening his eyes he found, Erebemlin kneeling over him. “We must be on our way,” he said simply. Taitheneb nodded and rose. Within minutes the company had returned to their horses and was moving at a quick pace along the river.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin stood frozen on the bank, her heart in her mouth, staring at the circles on the water where Ravion had just gone under.

Do something, fool!

Far in the distance, she heard Aeron running. He had heard Ravion call. She could hear Aeron's labored breathing, and she turned; he seemed so very far away. She must do something. She looked down at her waist. Knife. I have my knife. But what good is that--

Something moved near her foot. She gasped as her foot went out from under her; inhaled a great breath to scream-- and the waters closed over her head as the tentacle pulled her under as well. Another tentacle wrapped itself around her thighs.

She remembered her knife. She drew it, and feeling with her left hand, began to slash with all her strength at the thing that held her thighs. The water grew darker. The grip around her thigh was loosening! It was gone. She curled up toward her ankle, feeling with her left hand, and stabbed at it again and again. Suddenly its strength was gone, and she was free. None too soon, for she could hold her breath no longer.

She kicked downward, but her foot sank into mud. She wrenched it loose, and kicked at the water, and kicked again, and broke the surface gasping for breath.

Beside her the water churned, and she saw Ravion's cloak. She gasped for breath, and took hold of the cloak. With one more breath she put her face in the water and pulled herself down hand over hand along his cloak. Beside her Aeron splashed into the water, and she felt a jab of pain in her arm. She pulled herself down further. Ravion was thrashing, and she saw a dark-grey arc of movement. His sword. She dodged away, and went to his left; she pulled herself down along his tunic, his belt. There was a thick tentacle wrapped around his waist. Aeron was beside her, kicking, and she saw his blade too; she moved away to Ravion's back. She was getting dizzy, and wanted only to breathe. She hacked at the tentacle around Ravion's waist. The water grew blacker still. She felt with her left hand, and hacked again.

She had to breathe. She let go, hating herself, and surfaced. She felt her foot kick something that yeilded.

Beside her Ravion came up. She reached for his shirt as he reached for her, and they both nearly went under again, but he pulled her towards shore. Aeron came up next. Mellonin's foot kicked something again; it yelded again. It felt solid. She looked down, but the water was black.

"Gwy--" She tried to point down. "Gwyl--"

Aeron dove. Seconds later he surfaced with a handful of his sister's hair, and swam hard for shore.

Aeron dragged his sister onto the tussocky shore as Ravion and Mellonin crawled out on all fours and collapsed. Ravion sucked in several breaths and then said "Further. Still too close." They crawled til he was content, and then collapsed again. Aeron dragged his sister up beside them, and sat down, holding her and wiping the reeds from her face and hair.

"Gwyllion, " he pleaded. " Gwyllion, wake up. Listen to me. Gwyllion, wake up. Gwyll!"

[mark12_30]

Amroth looked southeast, at the mountains on the far horizon, and heaved a great sigh.

Erebemlin turned to him in surprise. "My lord?"

Amroth combed Echo's mane with his fingers, and shook his head. "Erebemlin, I have searched for the touch of her mind in both Dagorlad and Gorgoroth. I found few minds in either place, and none seemed familiar. It was a difficult search, far more difficult than searching Rohan and Fangorn; at least in Fangorn there were trees to ask. And now my heart misgives me, for I do not know where to turn next."

Erebemlin was silent for a little, and then said, "My lord, you wished to follow the river; yet you have not searched its banks. I do not understand why."

Amroth looked at Erebemlin. "If she is on the river, she will find us."

Erebemlin frowned, hesitating. "Only if she is looking for us, my lord. What if she is not? What if she does not desire to be found?"

Amroth's eyes kindled, and he raised one eyebrow. "Have a care, Erebemlin."

"Lord, I do not doubt her love for you. None who knew her, or you, would do so." He took a deep breath. "Perhaps, my lord, she has been hiding from all eyes. The years were dark. If she... There were many enemies roaming far and wide. To hide from them was wisdom, my lord. Many elves did so."

"Why would she close her mind?"

"Many minds were closed during the war, my lord. The enemy's thoughts reached far and wide, and sowed much discord. It was an evil time. Lorien herself wore a cloak after the girdle of Melian."

Amroth studied his friend, doubt in his eyes. "Even so?"

Erebemlin hesitated, then nodded. "The Lady Galadriel herself made it so."

Amroth looked away from his friend, and passed his hand over his eyes. His head hurt; his eyes hurt; his heart ached. Galadriel. What had she to do with Lorien? "I did not sense the Lady Galadriel's thoughts in the forest, nor a girdle blocking me, Erebemlin."

"My lord, when the Shadow was defeated she sailed west. She is in Valimar now, I deem."

Once more, Amroth's hand passed over his eyes, this time rubbing them. It felt strangely pleasant, and he rubbed harder. As Erebemlin watched, Amroth raised his other hand to his face, and scrubbed with both hands.

"My lord?"

Amroth finished and looked down at his hands, puzzled. "Why did I do that?"

Erebemlin waited.

"You say I do not wear an elvish body, Erebemlin."

Erebemlin nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"I begin to believe you. I have little strength, no endurance, frequent pain with no wound to cause it, and my eyes hurt. Often! Can you see anything in the sky over there?" He pointed southwestward.

Erebemlin turned. "Yes, my lord. Eagles, hawks. Some sparrows. A flock of crows further west."

Amroth shook his head. "I see them not."

Erebemlin waited.

"What shall I do, Erebemlin?"

Erebemlin replied, "You had hoped to find her along the great river. Let us search the river carefully as we follow it."

"But the choking, lifeless dust?"

"That was only your last dream, my lord. You have dreamed of the water many times, have you not?'"

Amroth nodded. "Very well. We will search the river." He closed his eyes again, and breathed deeply. Why was he so very weary?

[Imladris]

"Gwyllion!" he cried as he slapped her as hard as he could on the face. She did not stir, her face was white and pinched, as if the life had been sucked from her. His slap did nothing to her but leave a harsh red mark upon her cheek. Aeron cursed himself and said, "Gwyllion...Gwyllion! Wake up!"

He pulled his sister to his chest and smoothed her hair. It was tangled, mud clung to it, and there was some marsh weed strung through it. He rocked her and said, "Breathe you little idiot. You cannot live if you don't breathe."

Little Gwyll...why? Why did these bad things happen? Why had that slimy thing dragged her under in the deep, muddy, slimy water? Why had she even been that close to the dratted water in the first place? She should know better. It was unfortunate that she did not fear water as much as she feared blood.

What if she died? Would she be happier? He did not know. But what use was there screaming at it, ranting at it? His crying would not stop her from dying. If she died, she would no longer be plagued about her father, nor have to have spasms of fear rack through her at the sight of blood. "Breathe...please!" he whispered, hugging her.

Her body undulated upwards, forcing the swallowed water out of her body. She gasped for breath and clutched at Aeron. "Gwyllion!" he shouted, forcing her upright and wiping the water from her mouth. "You're alive!" Alive!

She nodded and said, "Yes-- the black thing was --"

If she wasn't careful she would talk herself back into the sickness. Typical of women. He put his hand over her mouth and said, "Shush you. Rest is what you need."

"But --"

Protesting, as usual. He rolled his eyes and said, "Make it quick."

"Is Raefindan all right?"

"Of course!" he snorted. "Now, you rest!"

[Orual]

Ravion's lungs burned as he forced air into them. He was shaking somewhat, much to his humiliation. He watched as Aeron revive Gwyllion, and his own breathing became somewhat easier. He had been terribly afraid that the girl was not going to wake up. She must have been under for a very long time. She was unbelievably fortunate to be alive.

He stripped off his sodden cloak, rolling his shoulders back to rid himself of all the cricks in his back. He looked about himself wearily to try to find something with which to wipe his sword on, but could find nothing. He was too tired to look very hard. The battle in the water, then trying to get far enough away from the water to be sure that they were safe...he was worn to the bone. He was sure that Gwyllion and Mellonin were, too.

Mellonin. He looked over to her. She was breathing heavily, obviously shaken, but in an admirably gathered state of mind. She too had been watching Aeron and Gwyllion, and was still doing so. Raefindan was standing by Gond, digging in the horse's saddlebags for anything that could be of use.

"You did well back there, Mellonin," Ravion said quietly, moving to her. She looked up at him and smiled wearily. "You saved us all."

"I could hardly have done anything else," she said simply. "I could not tell whether or not you were..." She broke off abruptly.

"Capable? Obviously not, by myself." He smiled at her. "Mellonin, I would be dead now if it had not been for you. So would Gwyllion. I thank you."

He stood up shakily, gripping the trunk of a tree to support himself. "Raefindan, get some of that green fennel-looking herb, would you? It will help with our nerves. Take some yourself. It has been a hard day for us all."

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan was tired. Maybe his pneumonia had passed - and he wondered how the Elf had been able to remove it from his body so easily - but he was weakened and unable to be of much use. It had been torture to watch from land and be told to do nothing, although it had been the right decision on Ravion's part. At least they were all safe. He could not bear to lose Gwyllion, or any of them. It reminded him of his dream, having lost Mithrellas, which reminded him of another loss, which awakened deep pain in his gut. Angela.

Raefindan found the herbs Ravion required, and brought them to him. Ravion's hands were knowledgable in the use of them, though his fingers shivered with wet and cold. Jorje followed him from ranger to horse and back again, whining. He scratched the dog between his ears. Raefindan watched Ravion to see how he used the herbs.

"How does this herb work? What is it called?"

Ravion explained as well as he was able, his teeth chattering as he did, and Raefindan rehearsed the information to himself. He recalled having done such a thing many times before, but why or when or where, he could not recall. It did not matter for now.

"Ravion, you have a scratch on your upper arm." The ranger looked at his arm in some surprise, then turned back to Raefindan and asked him to find strips of cloth in his pack, to be used to cover his wounds. "I will tell you how to use them."

He returned to the horse packs and found blankets, Jorje tailing him, and gave one to Ravion, Gwyllion, and Aeron. Holding the last one, his thought turned to Mellonin.

Although each of them were weary and spent, it was important for Raefindan to speak to Mellonin. She sat on a dry hummock of grass, her legs crossed before her, her arms crossed in front, her entire body shivering from wet and cold. One arm had a nasty gash in the fabric, and Raefindan could see blood smearing under the wet cloth of her sleeve.

He knelt beside her and she looked up.

"You are wounded." She nodded, having seen it. "You should have said something."

"It does not hurt much, and Gwyllion's need was greater."

"You did well. I wish I could have helped." He lay the blanket around her shoulders while Jorje sniffed at her wet leggings. "I'll get more strips of cloth."

"My thanks."

Raefindan made another trip to Ravion's supply pack, Jorje doing an admirable imitation of his shadow, and returned to Mellonin. He tore the fabric of her sleeve away from the wound, and cleaned and dressed it, as Ravion had shown him.

"Mellonin, I have had dreams again. I think you should know them."

[mark12_30]

Mellonin's eyes closed. Dreams. Can we not have a restful nights' sleep? Must we always be haunted by longing, drownings, dust and despair?

She opened her mouth and was about to speak, when Ravion spoke. "We must move on. We are weak and weary, but I do not want to stay here near that..." he nodded towards the river. "The walk will warm us up, and later we will make a fire and dry our clothes. But first we must change into such dry clothes as we have." Ravion paused, and considered Raefindan. "We could go and ask the elf for a warm fire."

"I think not, " shuddered Raefindan.

He pointed at Gwyllion and Mellonin, and said "Gond's right side. Men on Gond's left side." THey struggled to their feet, separated as ordered, held blankets for each other and put on what dry clothing they had, hanging their wet things off of Gond's harness as best they could and using blankets as cloaks.

Mellonin marched in silence. Everyone still wore their wet boots, and they were glad when Ravion found a hollow between two low hills. Raefindan and Aeron collected firewood; Ravion started the fire; Mellonin gathered long sticks to hang their wet clothes on near the fire. The cloaks and boots dried slowly, and they sat in a tight circle around the fire warming their bare feet.

Suddenly Mellonin laughed aloud. "Halflings, barefoot and wandering! Four halflings and a man; Raefindan is Aragorn! This is Midgewater! Aeron, you shall be Peregrin, and Gwyllion, Meriadoc!"

"Nay, " chuckled Ravion, "Peregrin was the younger; Ernil i Periannath falls to Gwyllion."

"But Aeron is the rascal."

"Quite true! Very well, then!"

Once the laughter faded, Raefindan said, "So then who will be Samwise?"

"I will, " replied both Mellonin and Ravion; each glanced at the other, and looked away.

Raefindan hid a smile.

Mellonin looked up at him. Then she reached into her bag, and brought out a pen, and a bottle of ink. She shook it. It had held against the water. The papers were wet, and she laid them out by the fire; in the still air they did not stir. She brandished the pen in the air, and smiled grimly, and laid it beside the papers, smoothed her hair, and looked at Raefindan again. "I must hear of your dreams," she said, wriggling her toes nearer the fire. "Tell me your tale now."

[littlemanpoet]

"I must hear of your dreams," Mellonin said, wriggling her toes nearer the fire. "Tell me your tale now."

Raefindan sighed. Mellonin wanted the dreams told before all of them. Truth be told, they did not feel as if they belonged to him alone. Still, it was as if she was asking him to reveal dark secrets from his past from the witness stand.

"I dreamed that I was Imrazor. That I took Mithrellas to wife."

"Who are they?" asked Gwyllion.

"Old tales tell of Amroth and Nimrodel," Ravion said. "Amroth, king of Lorien, loved Nimrodel, who gave her name to the river flowing out of the Misty Mountains, and through Lorien until it joins the Silverlode. Amroth went over sea, and Nimrodel became separated from him. He was lost in the waves, and she was lost in the mountains. It is told that Imrazor found and took to wife Mithrellas, one of Nimrodel's serving women."

"You have almost told my tale for me, Ravion," Raefindan said. He widened his eyes and shook his head. I dreamed of finding and wooing her, and helping her to look for Nimrodel. We gave up hope and she consented to be my wife."

"Cunning scented?" One brow rose on Aeron's face. "What kind of smell is that?"

"Consented. It means, agreed."

"An odd word." Aeron frowned.

"No doubt!" Raefindan grinned. It's from a language you cannot know, my friend. "In my last dream, she left me and my son and my daughter, and ranged into the mountains, as if drawn by some call. Perhaps Nimrodel called her. She fell to her death. From a high cliff." Raefindan hung his head, for he did not want the others to see how his eyes welled. He rubbed them. "The smoke!" He stood and stretched. "So that is my dream. Make of it what you will." He sat back down.

[Imladris]

"What were you doing beside the water?" asked Aeron, as he plopped himself down beside the water. "You weren't thinking of going for a swim, were you?"

"Yes. I wanted to swim in the nasty muck," Gwyllion said, rolling her eyes. She tossed her head, put her nose in the air, slided her eyes down at him and said, "I was investigating. "

He chuckled and tossed a pebble at her, which cuffed her on the ear. "That is a big word for you," he said, winking. "Did you hear it from Raefindan?"

"I should have stayed under the water and died," said Gwyllion, stifling a yawn. "You do not even seem to be grieved that I almost died."

[/i] Women were so sentimental.[/i] "But you didn't die," he said. "Why should I shed tears over something that didn't happen, eh? You're alive, and ripe for tickling, teasing, and all sorts of brotherly affection."

"Brotherly abuse, you mean," Gwyllion replied, throwing a pebble at him.

It flew wide the mark and Aeron laughed. Girls were such rotten shots. If objects didn't naturally go down towards the earth, she would even miss that. "Missed!" he chortled.

Frowning, she picked up another and threw again. This time he caugt it and said, "You're a hopeless cause, little Gwyll."

"That is because you caught it, brother." She sighed, and yawned.

"Are you tired?" he asked. He was tired too, though he didn't have a reason to be. He hadn't even had a chance to throw in a punch or two during the scuffle between the elf and ranger. But Gwyllion had had a near death experience including a bit of venom.

In answer she crawled toward him and put her head on his knees and closed her eyes. "What do you think I am -- a cushion?"

"A bony one, yes."

"Good night, Gwyll."

[Orual]

The morning rose quietly, sneaking up on Ravion like the creature in the water. It was almost as unwelcome.

He turned over, trying to block out the first rays of the sun, but it did not work. It never did. He sat up with an effort, his muscles stiff and his head throbbing. What time was it, he wondered? How long since he had fallen asleep? Had it really been any time at all? He groaned softly, so as not to wake up his companions, and went to Gond.

He stroked Gond's neck and took several deep breaths, struggling against the foggy feeling in his head. Gond looked at him soulfully and whinnied sympathetically. Ravion smiled faintly and set about making sure that everything they needed that was not in use currently was packed.

After he folded the now-dry clothes from the previous night, everything was. All that was left was to pack the blankets that they had used overnight. He would let the others sleep for a half hour, then they would have to go. He leaned his head against Gond and took some more deep breaths. It would take more than the poor night's sleep he had gotten to pull him through the day.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin pulled her coak up over her head. "It cannot be time to rise. Not yet."

No one replied. She huddled deeper under her cloak and blanket, thought better of it, opened one groggy eye partway, found the fire, and crawled towards it. When she could feel its heat through the blankets, she curled towards it and pulled her hood over her eyes again.

She heard Raefindan's racking cough not far away. Gond snorted. She thought she heard Ravion whisper; but he was always noiseless. She opened an eye and peered out, and saw Ravion moving through the mist, hooded and cloaked.

She closed her eyes again, snuggled closer to the fire, and drifted off.

Blistering heat. Caustic fumes. Dust and ashes. It was neither day nor night. She stood in a valley-- no, a crevasse; on both sides sheer cliffs rose. Bones were scattered about; skulls leered at her. Misty forms wafted past her, each one a wave of fear in her soul. Despite the heat she was chilled.

"Why have you left me? Why have you not returned for me?"

The cliffs echoed her cry. The skulls mocked her. The misty forms drew nearer, listening. Fear took her breath away; she grew faint, fighting for air.

" You cannot be false. I have been true. I have waited. Why have you not come?"

Darkness fell. The skulls glimmered in the unlight. The misty forms wove around her, and sometimes passed through her in an ancient dance; she writhed to avoid the touch of their clammy hands. Their hands met hers nonetheless. Every handclasp made her weaker. Each breath was a struggle.

"Mellonin, wake. It is but a dream. Hear me. Mellonin, wake."

"I will not wake, for waking is only torment. I wake to find that you are not here. Beloved, when will you come? Why have you not come? I will sleep forever and dream of you."

The dance quickened, and every touch brought a deadly chill to her hands, her arms. She was slipping, slipping. The dance wove around her. Every breath seemed her last. The chill neared her heart. She welcomed it.

"Yes, I will sleep; I will forget my despair in sweet dreams of my love. Come, dreams. Come, sleep of death; would that you would take me hence. But alas, you may not. I will dream til my love comes."

No longer were the misty forms taking her hands in the dance; now they seized her by the shoulders.

She was face to face with a skull; she shrank from it, closing her eyes, willing herself to dream of her love.

"Mellonin!"

"You are too gentle, Ravion." Aeron slapped her hard. Ravion glared at him.

Mellonin's eyes opened. Mouth open, choking for air, she stared wide-eyed at the faces hovering over her, shrank from the hands that held her.

"Mellonin, " pleaded Ravion.

Aeron raised his hand to slap her again, but Raefindan caught his wrist, and spoke. "Mellonin, it's us. Your friends. You're with us now. Ravion is here, Aeron is here, and Gwyllion. We won't hurt you. Remember us? You're awake now. You were dreaming. It was a dream."

Raefindan's soothing voice gradually brought her around. She sat up, looked at each one in turn, put her face in her hands, and slowly regained her breath.

[mark12_30]

The night was clear and bitter cold. The horses' whiskers had frost on them. They camped near a small copse and made two large fires, and huddled together for warmth. Even the elves on watch stayed near the fires.

The next morning they woke cold and stiff, and hungry. Lembas had no appeal, but they used dried meat, fruit, and lembas to make a sort of breakfast stew. Cheered, they mounted and rode.

The river murmured and bubbled along its thin edges of creaking, crackling ice. Fallen leaves blew along the shore, and swirled along the river, eddying near rocks and shallows. The sky was clear, the midwinter sun had been bright but cold. Liornung had wrapped his fiddle in his spare shirt and stored it deep in his saddlebag. The sun went down; they could see their breath even in the twilight.

Careful search all along the bank had showed them nothing. Amroth let his thoughts roam further south; there were no elves here.

"Erebemlin, there are no elves along this riverbank."

"None with open minds, my lord. I do not think her mind is open. If she had opened her mind, would you not find her?"

Amroth considered his friend, and nodded. With a sigh, he said, "We will search the bank." He rode on, pondering. "But Erebemlin, when I first came, I thought I found her in dreams. I thought that I sensed her presence. Yet waking, I could not and cannot find her."

Erebemlin grew thoughtful. "Yet the nightmares weary you, my lord. Your body needs sleep or you will sicken as men do."

Amroth gazed ahead. "Do not think me ungrateful, friend. But perhaps you should lessen your guard over my sleep."

Erebemlin hesitated, and bowed his head. "As you will, my lord. Yet I would not see you weaken again. It is not many days since you first regained any strength."

"I will rest when I find her, " Amroth replied.

[mark12_30]

Nethwador listened as Amroth and Erebemlin talked. Their minds did not touch his, and all he heard was the words. He felt left out.

Nudging his horse, he trotted up between them. They looked at him, and Amroth's mind touched his.

"The night is cold; we will need a fire, " Nethwador reminded them.

Amroth laughed. "Yes, little brother; we will indeed. No doubt the horses will want some grass. How I do forget the comfort of my friends. I am sorry." His smiled gently faded, and he looked ahead in the twilight.

He shook his head. He could see little. He felt blind.

"Erebemlin."

Erebemlin answered gently. "There is a dead tree two miles hence, my lord. Enough to feed several fires."

They urged their horses into a trot, and made camp under the dead tree.

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung's fiddle was out of his pack and he was carelessly drawing notes from it, pondering on the lesson of Nethwador and Bellyn earlier that day. He wondered where Nethwador would go when their travels were over. Liornung would dearly love to instruct him further on the art of music; Nethwador had deep talent.

Argeleafa was sitting by herself again. Liornung frowned and thought for a moment, and then his face brightened and he gestured to her, calling her name. She came a little closer. "Argeleafa, we have given everyone a chance to sing except you," he said, shaking his head. "I am most ashamed of myself." He picked up his bow and ran it down the strings once. "Would you sing while I play?"

"What would you have me sing?" she asked, glancing at Ædegard. He smiled encouragingly at her and she grew in confidence.

"Name a tune," replied Liornung. She blushed slightly, leaned forward, and whispered something in his ear. He nodded and began to play a sad and mysterious tune. Argeleafa sang thus:

"My young love said to me, 'My mother won't mind
and my father won't slight you for your lack of kind.'
She stepped away from me and this she did say:
'It will not be long, love, till our wedding day.'

She stepped away from me and she moved through the fair
and fondly I watched her move here and move there;
and then she turned homeward with one star awake
like the swan in the evening moves over the lake.

The people were saying, no two e'er were wed
but one had a sorrow that never was said
and I smiled as she passed with her goods and her gear,
and that was the last that I saw of my dear.

Last night she came to me, my dead love came in.
So softly she came that her feet made no din.
She laid her hand on me and this she did say:
'It will not be long, love, 'til our wedding day.'"

[littlemanpoet]

As Ædegard listened to the sweet voice of Argeleafa, the words of her song bit deep. He knew the tune, for it was one he had heard before among the Rohirrim. But these words were new, and he knew in his heart that these were the best words he had ever heard matched to that tune.

He rose and crossed to where Argeleafa was sitting. He stretched his hand to her.

"Walk with me for a little while." His voice rose on the final word, giving the suggestion of a request. She looked up to his face and hers blushed visibly in the firelight. She laid her hand in his and he drew her up. He offered her his arm, and she laid her hand in the crook of his elbow, and they walked a little way beyond the camp. They were quiet as they walked. His heart lifted as he felt her warmth next to him. He stopped and turned.

"Your voice is sweet as honey. And those words! I loved them! May it not come true, though, for I would rather you were alive than dead."

She looked away with a smile, and he was abashed at his words, for in them he had spoken far more than he had a right to say.

"I am sorry. I have no right to say such things."

"I do not mind," she said, her voice still as sweet and lilting as it had been in the song, as if she were still echoing it in her mind. She looked up at him, her face pale and serene beneath a slivered moon. "There is time aplenty to see how we will fare."

They continued their circuit around the camp. Ædegard asked her to teach him the words to the song, which she did.

As they lay down to sleep, each in their own cloak, the song flitted, verse by verse, through Ædegard's mind until he dozed and dreamed of a fair maiden who walked on a hill, and through whose form he could see the moon.

[alaklondewen]

Erebemlin, as requested, did not watch over Amroth’s sleep during the night, instead he watched him from a short distance in hopes the king would dream of the lady once more. If this happened, the elf might be able to gather more clues of her whereabouts. Amroth, however, slept without showing any signs of troubling dreams.

The night wore to morning and the wind picked up chilling the campers to the core. The elves worked diligently to keep the fire blazing as a source of comfort, but it helped little as the wind whipped through their blankets and whistled in their ears. Their breakfast was bleak and cold, and they talked of finding real meat for their dinner. Soon the campers repacked their horses and were ready to ride. Erebemlin brought forth a flask of miruvor and insisted each of the travelers take a mouthful to warm their bodies and spirits for the journey ahead.

Erebemlin rode silently beside Taitheneb for most of the morning. The younger elf sang softly of the warmer seasons, and the elder let the song comfort his mind as he kept his eyes moving along the river’s shores.

After several miles, Erebemlin rode forward to accompany Amroth. The two nodded a silent greeting.

“Erebemlin…” Amroth began hesitantly. “Yesterday, I asked something of you, and I do not believe you obeyed me.”

Erebemlin was visibly taken aback. “My lord?”

“I asked you to take your hold from my sleep, mellon, but I slept as though you were still watching over them.” Erebemlin opened his mouth to protest, but Amroth continued. “I understand you want me to have restful sleep, but if my dreams are the way to find her…you must let me dream.” Amroth turned from the river and met Erebemlin’s injured expression.

“I am sorry, my lord, but I did not watch over your sleep…” The ellon paused momentarily. “I have watched over you for many nights now. It is possible the blanket I laid over your dreams lingers.”

Amroth considered this and then nodded. “Please accept my apology, mellon. I should have trusted your faithfulness and obedience. Forgive me.”

“Of course, my lord.”

The company continued their ride down along the river, taking small breaks periodically for food and stretching. Once nightfall came they stopped and made a small camp.

[mark12_30]

Nethwador remembered that Ædegard and Argeleafa had walked around the outskirts of the camp the night before. He had envied them, a little. He cast a long, hopeful look towards lady Bella.

She blushed, and looked down, and then spoke to Liornung. "Perhaps another song, or tune? The fire is cheerful, and company of many friends is brighter still."

Nethwador understood her tone if not her words, and knew that she felt unsafe. He was still wild, still unknown, still unpredictable.

But all that could change. He glanced over the grass, then made a wry face. Flowers in midwinter! He must find another offering. In the dark? He made another wry face. He had nothing to give and no light to find a gift by.

He stood, and slowly approached the fire. Liorning and Bella looked up, and smiled to see him approach. He slowed, halted beyond arm's reach, and sat down, gazing at the shimmer of the firelight on her hair and her face.

[Nurumaiel]

The company had grown more silent as time wore on, and Liornung felt this keenly. Perhaps it was because of the lands that they travelled. He could not say, but he missed the cheerful songs they had traded and the words that had spoken to each other. Once again his mind drifted towards the Inn at Edoras, and, disturbed, he tried to push the thoughts away. Why did his mind consistently travel to wander through the bright halls of the Inn, to seat itself by the blazing fire and bask in its glow, speaking words of comradeship to Good Secgrof and making pretty Blostma laugh by his ridiculous little tunes? Why, when his life had ever been on the road? He loved the road still and he did not want to abandon it... why did he feel urged to?

"It is the weariness of this long journey, nothing more," he murmured to himself. "Ever before in my travels have I stopped in a lighted inn to sing the night away, and here I have travelled day and night without sight of a home, and ever on and on with no seeming end, and no one in sight save my own companions." It was not that he did not enjoy the company of his friends, but they were too few faces. He wanted an inn full of the faces of friends, not a barren wasteland with only a few familiar faces. He wanted to see little children hanging onto his every word and gazing in awe at the way he played his fiddle.

He chuckled slightly and he remembered the fiddle lesson. Bellyn and Nethwador were children, and Argeleafa was also a child. The way Bellyn and Argeleafa had sat at his feet to hear his songs, and the way Nethwador had played the fiddle with unsure but eager hands... it was what Liornung had grown to love. Well then, he would satisfy himself with what he had. It was, he thought better to have but a few faces of friends than faces of many he did not know.

Bellyn sat not too far from him, and Nethwador had wandered towards them, gazing at Bellyn with hope. It warmed Liornung's heart and his dark thoughts vanished. He held out a hand to the young lad, a friendly, offering hand. "Come, Nethwador," he said, his voice encouraging. "Come sit by me, and sit by the lady Bellyn."

Argeleafa lay awake, huddled in her cloak and gazing up at the stars, her golden tresses spread about her head. She was not sleepy but there seemed nothing else to do. She considered the words that Ædegard had spoken the previous night, and blushed warmly again at the remembrance of them. But she was not now, as she had not been then, displeased by those words. Rather she thrilled in them and was pleased.

She heard Liornung speaking from where he sat with Bellyn, and she propped herself on her elbows and gazed in that direction. Perhaps she would find company there. She stood and pulled her cloak tightly about her shoulders, seeking warmth from it and the fire. Softly she went to Liornung and sat down beside him. He smiled at her. Feeling that she had been in some way welcomed, she sat easily in their company though she said nothing. Ædegard was not too far off, and he was looking at her. She met his eyes and smiled a shy little smile, contemplating the way the firelight flickered across his features.

Nethwador had hesitated and Liornung gestured again. "Come, Nethwador," he said. "I fear it is too late for a fiddle lesson, but we would not grudge you to sit in our company."

[mark12_30]

Nethwador looked at Liornung, and understood the welcome in his eyes. Blond or not, he was easy to like.

He smiled, and listened to the talk. He did not understand it, but he was warmed as much by the acceptance as by the fire.

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung tried not to show himself particularly conscious of Nethwador's presence in an attempt to make the young lad feel more a part of their company. The others were there and Liornung felt grateful for it, but he merely relaxed in their company and did not show any excessive joy in one or the other being there. He did not want Nethwador to feel differently from the group by having more focus put on him, nor did he wish Nethwador to be ignored, so he spoke idle words that concerned everyone, occasionally directing a question to one person but in a general way that offered others to join in.

An idea formed in his mind, and he sat up straighter, intrigued. Good Secgrof had mentioned lightly and perhaps only in jest that he wanted Liornung to compose a ballad of his adventures. Yet as he considered it the idea did not seem too terrible a one. He reflected on what he knew, and regretted what he did not.

"Ædegard," he called gently, beckoning the young man to him. "Ædegard, I would desire to know a deeper history of this 'adventure' we are on. I confess I know only what I have lived through, and nothing of what has happened previous. Tell me in your words what has happened before I arrived in the song."

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Bella had smiled politely when Nethwador had joined them around the fire. She did not quite know how she really felt about Nethwador, and if she had any fleeting opinions they all conflicted and contradicted one another. Argeleafa smiled weakly, a timid look about her as the dark-skinned boy took a seat between Liornung and Bella. Liornung did his best to include everyone in his conversation, and through his warm tone of voice he also made certain not to exclude Nethwador.

Looking over at Nethwador quietly and calmly, Bella considered how he had transformed since they had met. The Gondorian lady remembered how Nethwador, then called 'Pig', had so violently greeted the companions of Amroth. Ferocity shone in his eyes and desperation colored his cheeks. Keeping this image and first impression in her mind Bella examined Nethwador again. He had also been called Mellon, and now Nethwador, and his features had taken on a glow that was much softer than it had once been. His smile sang of childhood and his eyes seemed willing to learn about the people around him.

"Argeleafa," Bella beckoned, just as Liornung called to Ædegard. The Rohirric girl looked up from her blank stare and met Bellyn's gaze, nodding slowly. "I wish to know how you feel...I have not spoken to you much since our meeting...what do you think of our company? On this journey I sometimes feel like I am no help to wherever Amroth goes. Do you think that each of us will play some part? Perhaps we are only on this journey to learn something for ourselves. If so, I am rather anxious and ready to know what it is! What say you?"

As Bella waited for an answer, she smiled kindly to Nethwador next to her and then sent the smile over to Argeleafa as the young woman contemplated an answer.

[Nurumaiel]

Argeleafa reflected upon Bellyn's words before answering. When she did speak her voice was heavy, as if she were weighing her words carefully. "I cannot say, Bellyn, if we are any help to the company or not, for I do not quite know what we are journeying for. Yet I believe that even if we bring no help in wisdom or skill with weapon, you at least have done much in other respects. Your songs have soothed Amroth when he is troubled, and pleased Liornung the bard, and your mere presence teaches Nethwador to act more kindly to us than the first day. Your songs have cheered me, also, for I have been troubled of late."

She studied the twirling, dancing flames of the fire before continuing. "I feel as though none of us can help Amroth, whatever his trouble may be, except the Elves. We can bring him companionship and comfort through kind words and cheery songs, yet I do feel that aside from that I at least am helpless." She bit her lip and dropped her head. "I fear I have been no help or comfort to the company," she murmued softly, "but merely a trouble. Liornung was kind indeed to take me from the wayfarers, but it brought an ignorant, foolish little girl upon your heads to torment you into weariness by her very presence, for she is so ignorant and foolish that she cannot take care of herself and needs others to watch after her."

[littlemanpoet]

"Ædegard," Liornung said, "I would desire to know a deeper history of this 'adventure' we are on. I confess I know only what I have lived through, and nothing of what has happened previous. Tell me in your words what has happened before I arrived in the song."

"I wish that I could tell you more than I can. All I can offer of worth is what happened to me."

He told Liornung of the great snowfall, of digging his way out of his house and building a snow fort, soon accompanied by others, and before long there was a snowball fight of mythic proportions! And Mellon, as Ædegard had known him then, was among his allies. When they tired of the snowball fight, they had retreated to the Inn for some warm brews. Mellon was already coming down with a bad cold then. It was not long before he was fevered, and taken to a room to be cared for. When he woke, he spoke as Amroth, though Ædegard had not known it then. Ædegard had not been sure whether Mellon was being overly clever, or was truly in another mind, as it were, but Bêtheberry, the innkeeper, had told him to be Mellon's friend, for more was at stake than one might seem. Soon Mellon, or Amroth, had departed, and Ædegard had grumbingly pursued - as the thaw set in. A day later he had met Liornung and Bellyn.

"So I remember him before he was Amroth." Ædegard cast his glance to him, and Liornung saw his troubled expression. "I wonder how the young man fares, or whether he is even inside that body anymore, and I wonder if he will ever return."

Liornung nodded gravely. "My thanks, Ædegard. I can imagine some light stanzas as well as dark. It will give some heft to the song."

"I hope not so much that it weighs it down too much!"

Liornung laughed. "Fear not, friend, I do not think I am capable of that!"

Ædegard smiled, and believed that Liornung was right about that. He turned an listened as Bella and Argeleafa exchanged words, and listened with dismay at Argeleafa's final words: "...an ignorant, foolish little girl upon your heads to torment you into weariness by her very presence, for she is so ignorant and foolish that she cannot take care of herself and needs others to watch after her."

"Speak not so, Leafa!" Ædegard's voice rang in the darkness so that it surprised him, but he went on. "It galls me that you think so of yourself! I could never weary of your company. I-" Words failed him. He looked at the others, who were watching him, and cast caution to the wind. Never had he sung before others before. With others, surely, but not alone. His voice quavered at first, but he gained confidence and his voice gained strength, though he was careful to keep his song quiet so that only the humans sitting together could here - unless Elven ears harkened better than he was used to.

Last night she came to me, my dead love came in.
So softly she came that her feet made no din.
She laid her hand on me and this she did say:
'It will not be long, love, 'til our wedding day.'

"Leafa, you brought such beauty amongst us. I'm sure Liornung and Bella, and Nethador, too, think as do I, we would not have it any other way than you here with us."

[Nurumaiel]

Argeleafa's face paled at the words of Ædegard as she stared unmovingly at him, and then a deep flush came to her face and a faint smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. "Thank you, Ædegard," she murmured. She fell silent and reflected once again on what he had said to her, and how he had called her 'Leafa.' A tear sprang to her eye before she could stop it, and glistened a moment in the firelight. Then she bowed her head and put a hand to her face as if to brush a strand of hair away. She hoped no one had seen the tear, for the might think it was one of sorrow, but it was not.

The eyes of the company were still on her, and Liornung realized that he should draw attention away from them. He turned to Ædegard, a teasing little smile on his face. "Ædegard, why did you not tell us of your great skill in song?" he questioned. "One would not have guessed your voice from the way you sang the rhyming songs you worked to compose. So hesitatingly you sang them, as if doubting yourself. Come," he said, the mischief clearly glinting in his eyes now, "and sing us another song before our eyes begin to close with the weariness of the day and we creep away to satisfy our desire for rest."

[littlemanpoet]

Ædegard grinned. "If you thought I was trying to sing then, it is no wonder you thought my efforts were so poor! I was only trying to give strength to the words!"

Liornung looked at him in momentary confusion, then threw back his head in laughter. "That is a good jest, my friend. More fool me. If that be the case, then your singsong poeting should have been a clue to me that you might have a singer's voice. So sing us another song!"

Ædegard's head sank almost between his knees and he looked sidelong at Leafa. He mumbled something.

Liornung bent his ear toward Ædegard. "What's that? I could not hear you."

"I cannot think of any songs." Ædegard looked askance at Leafa again. "I am sorry."

[littlemanpoet]

Tharonwe listened to the humans, not far off in the swamp. Children, all of them. They had survived the swamp beast, more the pity. He had heard the one's dreams from far off, and had wondered. The curse was at work again. It had been hundreds of seasoncycles since its power had been felt. Why now? Because the Dark Lord's waxing had ended. That must be it.

So this boy dreams of Mithrellas, and of himself as Imrazor, while he is in a fever. Tharonwe considered how dreams came to this boy whose red hair placed him if anywhere, among the half civilized humans that dwelt between Eryn Lasgalen and Ered Mithrin north of Lothlorien. But he was tall as the Elves. Strange. Yet this one seemed a part of the curse.

Unless some force sought to undo it, after all these seasoncycles? Tharonwe's brow lowered in growing anger. Who did this? It must not be undone! She had spurned him and claimed Amroth, upstart of Lothlorien, as her lover. They could not be allowed to reunite. She needed to remain where she was until all things that needed to pass, did so, and then - then! - he would claim her and win her heart, she who had captured his long ago. There was no one else for him to love, only Nimrodel. Sweet name, fair heart, turned to the wrong Elf. Cruel fate had cast Tharonwe's love in his face with a mocking laugh. He had believed in Nimrodel's true heart. And it had been false. She had spoiled his faith in her. Others would say that she was true indeed, and to the better elf. Tharonwe scowled. Cruel fate had dictated his bitterness, not an upstart king of Elves too fearful to protect themselves as he had done for ages now.

So be it. Tharonwe would have the final laugh, and would have Nimrodel in the end.

He fed the two young humans dark dreams. Feed them long enough and they would cower from sleep, would give up on their quest to piece together the puzzle of the dreams that had come to them true. He would have to find out who it was that had given them these dreams, find out what power in Middle Earth worked against his curse. The Valar? If so, only through one of the cursed Istari, but that was unlikely.

Tharonwe knew enough of what had passed in the world beyond his swamp to understand that the world had changed, and the ages of the Elves were past. And that the new King in Gondor had ended the curse of the dead men of Dunharrow. Maybe this Elessar's power over death and shadows had something to do with it. Maybe the tales lied. Tharonwe would have to learn what he could from these children.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin slowly withdrew her hands from her face. Looking up at Aeron, she drew a deep breath, and glanced at Raefindan and Gwyllion.

Ravion slowly let go of her shoulders, and drew back. She did not look at him. Mellonin turned towards Gwyllion with beseeching tear-filled eyes, and reached for her.

"What ails you, Mellonin?" said Gwyll, puzzled.

Raefindan knelt near them both. "What dreams, Mellonin? Tell me."

Her white face turned towards him, and she shook her head.

"It's over, " he said. "It was just a dream. Nothing more."

"I am not so certain, " she quavered. "It seemed quite real, and when I awoke--" Horror filled her eyes again, and her composure fled beyond recall. She curled up and sobbed. Aeron snorted in disgust and walked away to gether his things. Gwyllion hesitated, then followed him. Ravion sat back on his heels, and looked on as Raefindan waited beside Mellonin, one hand on her wrist.

Tempted to rise and finish packing, Ravion hesitated as he studied them: one sick in body, the other sick in heart.

"Shall we march, or rest, Raefindan? What think you?"

[littlemanpoet]

"Shall we march, or rest, Raefindan? What think you?" Ravion asked.

It was not as easy a question as it might have seemed to someone looking in from outside. Raefindan allowed a fleeting grin to pass over his face, for that kind of thought was quite alien to this place called Middle Earth, which was not his home. Raefindan focused his attention. Mellonin's dream was not merely troublesome. This was worse. It reminded him of how he had felt when the Elf had forced him to dream. If that was so.....

"We must be away from here, Ravion," he said suddenly, with more force than he had used in any speech for a long time. "I do not trust that Elf, nor the beast in the waters."

"Mind you, Raefindan, you are weak, and we have all barely escaped with our lives."

"All the more reason to leave this place, which I think you know."

"Aye."

Raefindan helped Ravion to encourage the others to move. Aeron, kicking at a bit of turf, looked at Mellonin down his nose. Gwyllion stamped up to him and punched him on the shoulder.

"The real men in this group do not turn up their noses at a woman's sorrow, and neither should you, you beastly boy!"

Aeron made to swing back at her, but she ducked out of reach. "Little you know, Gwyllion, and I am older than you and know more of the ways of the world."

"Hah!"

"It is time to move your feet and not your mouths!" Ravion called over his back as he checked Gond's pack.

Jorje was sniffing at Mellonin's hand and face, eager to lick her salty tears.

"Come, Jorje," said Raefindan. Jorje wagged his tail. Raefindan patted his head, and knelt before Mellonin. "Come, my friend, let us put some distance between us and that Swamp Elf and his evil dreams." He offered her his hand.

Mellonin looked to him. "Do you think that my brother is not dead?" She placed her hand in his, and he lifted her to her feet.

"I cannot say, but a dream dreamed in this swamp is no clear arbiter." They began to follow the others, Jorje tailing them, his tongue lolling happily.

"No clear hour bitter? What do you mean?"

"Pay no mind. It is one of my odd words. What I mean to say is that I would not trust a dream dreamed here." Mellonin nodded. "We will not travel far."

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung laughed again and clapped Ædegard on the shoulder. "What a little boy you are," he said, his voice full of mirth. "Come, come, surely you do not take so seriously the teasing of an old man." As he had often done since he had left Edoras with Bellyn, he winked at the lass.

Ædegard looked at Argeleafa again and she smiled. "Perhaps," she said, "if you cannot entertain us with song and music you might tell us a little story."

"Yes," said Liornung, looking with approval at Argeleafa. "What a wise little lassie you are! You told me a story just moments ago, Ædegard, and you told it in a way that captured my attention. Tell another story." He flung his hands out wide. "Laugh in a manner that makes others laugh too. Do something to entertain us. Argeleafa," he said, turning to her, "make a request of him. Surely he will endeavour to please you."

She paused and considered a moment, and then her face brightened and she said to Ædegard, "Tell us about your family."

[Orual]

Ravion kept a wary eye on his surroundings as they put as much distance between themselves and the elf as possible. Every noise made him jump, from small creatures around them to Gwyllion's chatter from the back of the group. His knuckles were white from the tight hold he had on Gond's lead.

His ankle still throbbed occasionally from the memory of the beast's tentacle, and a chill would pass over him briefly. He knew the same must be happening to Aeron, Gwyllion, and Mellonin, and that Raefindan would be going through something similar. The previous night had been an ordeal.

Perhaps he was leading them poorly. He rubbed his temples when the thought came to him. Why had he allowed Mellonin and Gwyllion to stay there, by the water? He should have sensed that there was something in the water. Why had he not come back faster with Raefindan? Why had he allowed Gond to bolt with Raefindan in the first place? Why had he--

Gond snorted, bringing Ravion back to reality. He looked back, and his companions were all still wrapped up in conversation. His companions. He was supposed to be leading them. Could he still do it?

He was not sure.

[Imladris]

Gwyllion sidled down to Mellonin and took her hand. "My brother says that dreams are vapourish mists. They make monsters out of trees and ghosts out of squirrels."

Aeron, who had followed his sister, added, "Yes, don't care a fig for them."

There he was again, saying weird things. She tried to remember if Raefindan had ever used the phrase and he must have. Yes...he said it a week ago. How could her brother remember things for so long? She shook her head. What an amazing brother.

"I had nightmares once," said Gwyllion.

"And she was silly enough to believe them," finished Aeron, playfully punching her in the shoulder.

She slapped him back and said, "But....they were real, but they were not not true."

She looked at Mellonin's drawn face, pale and white, her eyes rimmed with spidery red lines, and hoped that she had comforted her. She swallowed, and swiftly enwrapped her in a brief hug. "If your brother is alive," she whispered, "Ravion will find them."

"But I think it would best to prepare yourself to find him lost in the head or dead at the worst," said Aeron. "That way you won't be shocked to find him either mad or dead and if he is alive and well, you will be pleasantly surprised, shocked and delighted."

[littlemanpoet]

"A story of my family." Ædegard considered. "I will tell you of how I got my sister."

"Why, I would think," Liornung deadpanned, "it was most likely by the normal means, friend Ædegard!"

"That it was not." Ædegard glanced around the group. Bella tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, as if wondering what other way there was. Liornung raised his brow. Leafa met his eyes and waited for him to continue. Nethador watched the others, pulling at the brown grass, glowering with obvious frustration at not being able to understand what befell.

"I was not my parents' first baby. They have told me that I was the fifth, but the only one to live beyond my first month. Six babies more my parents tried to bring into the world, but none others of them survived. Only I, and a sickly babe I was, to hear them tell it. Mama pined for a girl child, and Papa wanted to give her one that would live, but it was not to be. Maybe it was the dark and stuffy wheelwright shop that sickened Mama each time, and sickened me in my first year. I know not.

"Mama's sister, Aunt Penda, and her husband, Uncle Théobald, lived out west by the Isen, where they kept herds at the feet of the Thrihyrne, just beyond the Gap of Rohan. When I had seen twelve summers, they died in an attack by Dunlendings. My cousin, Théolyn, would have been murdered with them, but she had been sent into the foothills of the Thrihyrne to tend the sheep, and the Dunlendings did not search up there. 'Twas her good fortune, and ours, though we all grieved the loss of her Penda and Theobald. The elder of the folk beyond the gap sent word to Edoras, and so we learned of Théolyn's orphanage. We gave word that we would take her in, and she was brought to us. Since then it has become easy to call her sister. I often forget that she is only cousin. It matters not, for she brightens our dark home, and Mama's spirits. If not for her, we would find it hard to care for Papa, who is now too sick to work.

"Forgive me for telling you such a sad story, but it is not all sad. I am glad that Théolyn is home to care for my parents." Ædegard frowned. "I should be there, too. I have been away too long already." He looked to Leafa, words hovering on his lips, but he left them unsaid, and stared at the ground between his knees.

[mark12_30]

The comfort she recieved from Gwyllion was destroyed by Aeron's comment. She turned away from him. For the rest of the march she was silent, eyes on the ground. Raefindan walked beside her. Ravion had given Gond's lead to Aeron, who now walked in the rear, bickering with Gwyllion; Ravion strode northwest. They crossed another stream, with little enthusiasm, and marched on til they found another dead tree and a place for a campfire, and once again dried their boots and their feet.

"We may as well rest here for the night, " said Ravion, looking at Mellonin.

She nodded, and did not look up.

Ravion took Gond off to one side, stripped him and groomed him vigorously. Raefindan looked on for several moments; Gond's lips twitched in bliss as Ravion found one itchy spot after another. Then Raefindan spoke to Mellonin.

"You've hardly spoken to the ranger for several days now. We have been through much that should draw us together." He studied her.

"What of it?" she said.

"You are worried about your brother, I know. But so is he, " said Raefindan. "Perhaps you should tell him of your dreams."

"No!" she snapped. All heads turned and looked at her; Jorje put his ears back and whined, wagging his tail.

"Good dog, " soothed Raefindan. "Stay. Good dog." Ravion returned his attention to Gond. Aeron and Gwyllion resumed bickering.

"Perhaps then you should talk to him about the weather, " he continued in a whisper.

Mellonin drew her knees to her chin, staring at her toes and then at the fire. "Why should I talk to him?"

Raefindan shook his head, nonplussed. He opened his mouth to say in frustration, because it is rude not to, when a new thought hit like a locomotive. Raefindan stopped dead in his thought: locomotive? An image came to mind that did not fit in this world at all, but the feeling he was left with rocked him as he sat. He looked at Ravion, then back to Mellonin, then at Ravion again, and back to Mellonin, and nodded his head. Because you fight against your heart.

Mellonin looked up at Raefindan, annoyed by his silence. "He is a strong man. He needs nothing from me, " she said.

Raefindan's eyebrows went up. "Do you wish it were otherwise?"

Her eyes flashed. "How dare you ask me this?"

He shifted, and relaxed. "Well, perhaps because my life depends on all of you, and each of yours depends on each other. And Mellondu's life depends, I believe, on all of us."

Her face twisted and her eyes filled with tears. She felt a strong desire to strike him. "You... " She made fists of her hands.

Raefindan looked up.

"Is all well?" Ravion asked, drawing near.

"Yes, " replied Mellonin through clenched teeth, wishing again that she could lash out at Raefindan.

Ravion halted two paces away from Mellonin, and gazed at her, glancing occasionally to Raefindan. She said nothing. Her face reddened, and she knew it, and put her brow on her knees.

Ravion waited a few moments, and then glancing again at Raefindan, he stepped backwards for several paces, and returned to Gond.

Raefindan would not give up. "You could at least thank him for his efforts to date." His eyes twinkled, and the corners of his mouth curled upwards.

She seethed. Men. Sages and kings all, each seeing their whim as law! Is there no fleeing the rule of men? Not Raefindan, not Ravion, not that rash, selfish, proud little boy who thinks himself wiser than his moonstruck little sister!
His little sister, indeed, was wiser in all her madness than he. The thought made her smile. She wiped away a tear, tempted to fling that latest thought in Aeron's face. But Raefindan still watched her. Thank him... he certainly deserves my thanks. "If I do, will you leave me alone?"

"For an hour, perhaps." He grinned at her.

A smile fought with her tears for control of her face. "Oh, you beast. Raefindan, you are a beastly... beast!"

His grin broadened. "So how do you say "Red-Haired Beast?"

She swiped her tears of fury with her sleeve, stood, glared at him again (still fighting the smile), squared her shoulders, and strode towards Ravion.

You fool. What are you doing? You will regret this. Say nothing to him. You will only embarrass yourself more deeply than ever. Do not look at him, do not speak to him.

'Thank you for what you've done." she said. She could think of nothing more to say, and the silence thundered in her mind.

[Imladris]

Women. They were so...annoying. Yes. That's it. Fickle as the wind. Mad one moment, happy the rest. And then they expected the men to keep up with them. He rolled his eyes.

"Poor Mellonin."

"She's taking everything too hard," said Aeron. "If he dies, he dies....everybody dies. It has to happen sooner or later." Yes. That was it. Women didn't like the truth.

"I can see my grave would not have been watered by your tears," said Gwyllion, scowling.

"I also think it silly to mope about mourning for the dead," said Aeron. "Like you have for our father. The dead do not return, no matter how hard you cry."

Gwyllion stopped, her eyebrows carved in a viscious frown, and said, "You do not know if our father is dead!"

Trying to deny the truth as usual. What was it with her. "He is not coming back!" he shouted.

"He is too!"

"Well, then why hasn't he come back after all these blasted years, Gwyll! Either he's dead or he hates us. I think it is the latter and I don't care if I never see him again."

"You are despicable."

Gwyllion spat at him and then trotted over talk with Raefindan. What was wrong with her? She was living and dwelling in the past like a fool. She could waste away her life for all her cared.

[mark12_30]

Amroth lay on his back, stargazing with his shortsighted eyes while he searched the riverbanks over and over and over with the eyes of his heart. She was not here; not if her thoughts were open.

And what if Erebemlin was right? What if her thoughts were closed? What if she had closed them for fear of the Dark Lord, and not opened them again?

A thousand years, he reminded himself. A thousand years had passed since he had leapt from the ship. A thousand years...

His reason revolted against it. How could he have waited a thousand years to come back for his love, his breath, his soul, his very life? It could not be true. And yet, his heart did not doubt it was; not when he studied Erebemlin; a thousand years of Erebemlin's memory lay between now and Erebemlin's last farewell to Amroth. It was no lie.

So where had the thousand years gone? Was he a thousand years in the water? That could not be. Had he been a thousand years under some spell? Or some restraint? Somehow that felt nearer the mark, and yet how could an elf be so restrained for so long, and not know it? Where else but--

Mandos.

A searing pain went through his mind, and panic gripped him; just as quickly, a soft fog settled over his thoughts. He retreated as puzzled as a dog chastened by a kitten. He shook his head, and rubbed his weak eyes, squinting at the stars; why could he see so little? And why did... What had he been thinking? He had been nearer to solving some puzzle, and now he had forgotten the question that had so intrigued him.

It did not matter. One thing mattered. One thing... Nimrodel. Where was she?

Where are you? Beloved, open your thoughts. I long for you. I cannot rest without you. Hear me, Nimrodel, my love. Where have you hidden? Oh, hide from me no more. Hear me, Nimrodel, Nimrodel!

Nearby, Erebemlin and Taitheneb exchanged glances as Amroth's cry cut through their thoughts. Even the mannish folk turned, aware of Amroth's sorrow. Nethwador left the others, hurried to Amroth's side, and laid his hand on the king's shoulder.

Erebemlin joined him, and spoke softly to the king. "Sleep, my lord. Perhaps you will find her in dreams. Sleep now."

His longing drove him into his dreams, and as the shadows and tempest neared him, he embraced it. Waves, dust, fear, despair, he swam through it all, reaching for every shadow in the hope that he might find her.

[mark12_30]

Jorje sat and watched Mellonin approach Ravion. He looked at Raefindan, who did not return his devoted gaze.

He sighed, sniffed the wind, scratched his ear, looked at Raefindan again, walked to Gwyllion and nudged her hand.

[Imladris]

Gwyllion watched Mellonin creep towards Ravion. Her face was white and a little pinched at the corners of the mouth. She really could not blame Mellonin for being afraid to aproach the ranger. He was a ranger after all.

He was tall. Dark. Brooding. And he and Aeron did not get along in her humble opinion. In fact, why wasn't her brother more afraid of that ranger? Because, as she had supposed all along, her brother did not have a mind in that head of his.

Jorge ambled beside Mellonin and cocked his head at her. With awag of his tail he came towards Gwyllion and nuzzled her. Nuzzled her with his wet, slimy, black nose. "No touching," she hissed, shoving his nose away.

He looked at her, his big brown eyes wide and limpid.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do not even give me that look."

Jorge glanced at Mellonin and whimpered. She sighed. He was saying plain as plain that she should go over there....with Mellonin....to face the ranger. She closed her eyes. She didn't want to go over there....to stand beside the ranger who had shed lots of blood. Blood....red blood.... She clenched her fists. She would not have another fit.

Well....Mellonin was her friend and she had already taken enough from Aeron. She marched towards her and slipped her arm about her waist and tried to smile at the ranger...

[Orual]

Ravion turned to Mellonin, surprised. "For what I've...done," he repeated blankly.

"Yes, for what you've done," Mellonin said, her voice tight. She seemed eager to get away as soon as possible.

"Oh." Ravion looked down and frowned, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. How was he supposed to respond to that? He did not know how to react to a woman saying something like that...what did she mean? Was it what she was saying? His fellow Rangers always said that women never said what they meant. "You are...you are welcome."

He turned away, glad that he was through with that. But Mellonin was not. "I truly appreciate it," she said.

"Thank you," Ravion said. He coughed. "Thank you."

Mellonin looked at him for a moment, then turned to leave.

"Mellonin," Ravion called. She turned. He swallowed, and walked up to her. "All that I have done for you...I am not sure that it has been that much."

Mellonin frowned, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that we have been travelling for weeks now, and are no closer to finding your brother than we were in the first," he said. "I have led you poorly. I was an ill choice to guide you. I am sorry."

[mark12_30]

"Sorry?" Mellonin echoed. She looked at Gwyllion, and realised that her mouth was open, jaw hanging. "Sorry? Ill choice?"

He waited.

"Ill choice?" she repeated, her voice rising.

He considered taking a step backwards, but stood his ground.

"We have been travelling for seven days. One week, no more. And barely that. And in that time you have led us through land I have never seen, on paths I do not know. You dove in alone to save my friend--" here she gave Gwyllion a rough shake-- "while I stood on the bank doing nothing. You went hunting after my sick redhaired friend and rescued him from some cave where he was prisoner. And you saved this childish brat--" she jabbed a trembling finger towards Aeron as her voice grew shrill-- "from a scavenging pirate and his friend who wanted his skin or worse. What say you to that? Were it not for you, we would be enslaved, prisoners, or-- or-- or fish-bait. Ill choice indeed! I think not. I think not!"

She turned on her heel and stormed away from him, past the fire. Raefindan opened his mouth to speak and she jabbed a finger at him. "I thanked him. Now you leave me in peace for one hour!" She passed him, crested the small rise, walked another twenty paces and sat down with her back to the group.

"Your feet won't dry over there, " Raefindan called.

"One hour!" she snapped.

Raefindan chose a stick, and stirred the fire.

[Imladris]

Aeron's jaw dropped. A childish brat? Who was she calling a childish brat? He looked around. There was no other child around except Gwyll --- and her finger hadn't been pointing at his valaric sister. He shifted his jaw to the side and glared at Raefindan. No...she was too attached to him. It was certain. She was referring to himself of all people.

He stalked toward and said, "A childish brat? You think I'm childish brat?" he shouted.


"What else could you be?" snapped Mellonin.

"Anything but a childish brat!" How could anyone think he was a childish brat? Childish brats were people who kicked and screamed at fate, who sulked when they didn't get their way and have their every whim provided. He a childish brat? Hardly.

He glared at her. What had she done to help? How had she done to save their necks? How had she help save Gwyllion? It was probably her fault in the first place that Gwyll had gone too close to the water. "You haven't done anything on this bloody expedition!" he said, his voice tight. He considerred how far he could go without getting a beating from Ravion.

She glared at him. She was breathing rather heavily Aeron thought. Good.

"Oh. So you have no words to say to me, eh? That means I'm right. Your silence prooves that I am not a childish brat." He smirked at her.

"Yes you are. You are stupid, careless and a thief. You do not even care when someone could be dead."

Oh. So his words about her brother was what was causing all this hard feeling. "At least I don't moan about it and feel sorry for myself all blasted day," he snapped. "I accept what life offers and I don't waste the days being afraid that someone is dead or in fear that my brother (or sister in my case) is moonstruck. So bloody what? Does moaning about it and wallowing in self pity like some....some...plump swine change the course of this world?"

[mark12_30]

She glared disdainfully. "Insect. Small help do you give to the course of this world. The fealty you swear to yourself is boundless. It must be so, for no other will have you or follow you. Were it not for your sister, your company would be worthless. As it is, she pays for your keep; your selfish, filthy, brash, self-serving and loathsome keep. "

[Nurumaiel]

"I myself have met Théolyn," said Liornung, speaking more to Nethwador and Argeleafa than to Ædegard. "Courteous she is, and also fair of face. She cares for Ædegard very dearly. Bella, too, met her."

Bella nodded in silence; Argeleafa considered the story Ædegard had told and felt a deep sorrow well up in her for Théolyn. The latter had lost her parents in death, and not simply to the wayfarers. Yet Théolyn's relatives had stepped forward to take care of her. And Argeleafa did not know who would care for her now that she lacked parents.

Liornung had been speaking a little more of Théolyn through these brief thoughts of Argeleafa. "Yes, a fine girl," he said as a conclusion, and looked to Ædegard again. "Now I grow weary, and soon I must retire, but first, Ædegard, I must ask you who the one by the name of Freawine was. I met him also at your departure from Edoras, and he seemed very wise. Who is he?"

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

As Liornung called for an answer of Ædegard, Bella once again turned to speak privately with Argeleafa. Her eyes looked distant, and her face spoke of some other place than where they sat. Bellyn watched the girl for a moment, curious at the glance and gaze in her companion's eyes. When Bellyn murmured her name, Argeleafa blinked and turned her gaze to Bellyn.

"I once painted a picture, Argeleafa, of two lovers embracing in the twilight of a winter's day," Bellyn explained, remembering the portrait vividly within her own mind. "I never knew exactly how that felt, and I only drew the picture from the stories I had heard and distant memories of my parents. Now I see Amroth, and I feel his pain whenever I see him or whenever he cries out. Even though he is only one half of a pair and I cannot see the other half, I think of the journey he is on and all the trouble he has gone through to find his lady."

Argeleafa said nothing, but nodded slowly as both young women turned to where Amroth lay. They watched him for a moment, with Nethwador and the Elf by his side, sweating and trembling in his dreams. Bellyn frowned, hating to see pain in someone else without being able to help. It hurt Bellyn that she could not help in some way.

As Liornung and Ædegard spoke, Bellyn smiled. "Argeleafa, do you see yourself feeling the same way about Ædegard that Lord Amroth feels for Nimrodel? I can see the energy between you two...I hope I am not being too blunt? You do not have to answer if you do not wish to. I just want to know more about the matter of love that seems to affect so much in this world."

[Imladris]

Aeron blinked at Mellonin. That must have been the most words she had ever said to hime in one discourse. In fact, that probably surpassed the string of insults that Gwyllion ever hurled at him seriously (and that was the key word here) at one time. He scratched his head and snapped, "If I recall correctly bees are insects and they give honey. And ants are very good workers." He smirked at her and patted himself on the back. That should sufficiently convince her that he was not a worlthess insect.

He didn't wait for her to reply but said, "I wonder what the ranger -- this mighty ranger would do without humble lackey?" He hunched his shoulders, and peered meekly from under his brows. "Can you imagine him bowing his knee to a fire to blow upon the flames? Ha!" he laughed. "He would probably let it die before he did that. Oh no," he continued, his words tumbling from his mouth. "The only reason he seeks your foolish brother is not to tarnish the name of ranger. But in the end, he is just like me," he said.

[mark12_30]

A burst of derisive laughter, loud and shrill, sliced through the cold air and echoed in the mist. Ravion scowled, and began marching toward them. Mellonin did not notice.

"Just like you!" she gasped, cackling and half choking. "Just like-- oh-- " she fought for her breath, and lost. She laughed til she cried, her face red, her breath coming in shrill gasps. Ravion stood atop the crest, and halted, baffled. Mellonin sat down hard on the ground, shaking and hiccuping.

Aeron smirked. Gwyllion ran past Aeron, smacking him hard on her way by. "Monster!" she said.

"Women!" he spat.

Gwyllion put one arm around Mellonin's shoulders, and Mellonin buried her head against her friend and sobbed in earnest.

"Oh, keep crying. That will solve everything, " Aeron said, sidling away from Ravion.

Mellonin's hands twitched, and then she buried her face deeper into Gwyillion's shoulder.

"It might even bring him back from the dead, " Aeron chirped, still moving away from Ravion.

Slowly, her hands withdrew from Gwyllion, and her sobbing stopped. She looked up, and saw Aeron not five feet away. In one movement, she stood, and flew at him. Gwyllion cried out. Ravion's sharp order was drowned out by wildcat howls from Mellonin. Aeron fought back as best he could, but his hair was clenched in her left fist, and his face exposed to the storm. After she landed two solid punches, he kicked her, and she clawed his face, shrieking curses all the while. Blood ran.

[Imladris]

Things were moving to fast. First Mellonin was crying, a shaky little puppy without an ounce of courage, and then she was a raging wild cat. She was pulling his hair (which he was sure was bad form) and punching him. He could taste the warm blood on his lip.

He kicked her in the shins. She shrieked and rained down more curses on him. It was really nice to hear her swear and curse. It showed that she had a little spirit at least. He punched her in the thigh area where it was tender and her shriek turned into a puppy yelp. Her nails raked his cheek and he landed a solid fist upon her jaw.

A little voice whispered to him that he was fighting a woman. But he didn't care. She had started the blasted fight and deserved the pain and the humiliation. Slowly, he wrestled her to the floor, pinning her arms to the ground. She was breathing heavily and a little spittle dribbled down her chin. "A little insect eh?" he snapped. "Well the little insect just conquerored the noble, valaric, lioness." He glared at her, and spat on her forehead.

He really was quite impressed that Mellonin had fought him. Had actually summoned the anger to stop feeling sorry for herself and to have fought him. She, a weak maiden tusseling a storng wiry chap such as himself. And actually expecting to win (for who fought without the expectation to win, eh?). The whole situation was laughable.

He tittered, held her arms above her head with one wrist, and began to tickle her. Women did not like to be tickled as Gwyllion had told him many times over. Tickling was very humiliating as well...especially when one had also been defeated in a silly fight.

[mark12_30]

Her face twisted in fury. To be tickled by this beast as he sat upon her stomach! Her hands were held fast. She considered biting him, but she could not reach him-- yet.

She drew her right knee up as hard as she could and caught him in the middle of his back. He lurched toward her shoulder. She brought her other knee up, and drove both feet into the ground. He twisted, off balance, and in doing so his grip slipped, and one of her hands came free. She siezed his hair again, hauling herself toward him; she was close enough to his shoulder to bite it. His shrill yelp was cut short as she kneed him again.

[Imladris]

This was enough. If she was going to pummel and literally act as if she was going to kill him then she deserved all he could give her.

He could feel her teeth sink into his skin and he hoped that she had a mouthful of blood swishing around, staining her white teeth. He drove his fist into her stomach while he tripped her up with his legs. She fell with a splat on her bottom and lunged forward. He dodged and she fell on her face. Leaping onto her back, he began to drag her arms across her back. He clenched her wrists in one grimy fist and pulled on her arms in a way to cause great pain. With the other hand he jerked on her hair, sending jabs of pain across her scalp.

He shouted, "See what the insect is doing to you! See!"

He shot glances about him and saw Ravion and Raefindan stumble towards them. Gwyllion paled and keeled over in a dead faint.

[Orual]

Ravion strode towards Aeron: this had gone on long enough. He appreciated the need to release tension, but this had gone altogether too far. He gestured for Raefindan to see to Gwyllion as he approached the fight.

He threw Aeron off of Mellonin, and spun the boy around so that he was facing him. "That is enough," he shouted. "You say that you stay here only so as not to tarnish my name, and yet you attack Mellonin in her grief? If that was not so disgusting, I would laugh." He drew his hand back to strike Aeron. The boy stood his ground, setting his teeth in anticipation of the impact.

Ravion struggled with himself for a moment, then let his hand fall to his side. "I am ashamed to say that you serve me," he said tightly. "You have shamed me! But more than that, you have shamed yourself. Look around you, son of Gondor. This is your handiwork. Are you proud?"

"I--"

"Bâ!" Ravion shouted. "Do not speak. You will go by Gond. If I catch you raising your hand once more to Mellonin or any of us, I will send you and Gwyllion back to your home. Then we will see how much I rely on you."

"Ravion, I--"

"Êphal êphalak îdôn hi-Akallabêth," Ravion muttered. "How far from Anadûnê have we strayed."

He went to Mellonin and offered her his hand. "Are you hurt?" he asked, helping her up.

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan went to Gwyllion and chafed her palms, stealing glances at Mellonin and Ravion as he dressed down Aeron. It had all happened so fast. Raefindan wished that he had been quicker to react to the situation, but apparently he was still recovering from his pneumonia. He turned back to Gwyllion. Her face was pale. He brushed the hair away from her face and lightly slapped her cheeks, calling her name. He took his water pouch from his side and poured some water over her lips, which brought no reaction, then on her forehead and eyes. She blinked and frowned and coughed, then looked up at him, recognition coming only after a moment.

"How do you fare, Gwyllion? Here, drink."

She bent her head forward toward his water pouch, and he placed his hand behind her neck and head to support her. She drank a few gulps, then turned her head away. He pulled the water pouch away.

"Thank you," she said.

"You are welcome. How do you feel?"

"Well enough. What happened?"

"You fainted as your brother and Mellonin fought."

Her eyes crossed momentarily and he thought he was going to lose her again. Then her brows lowered and her lips became a line. "The monster!"

"Indeed."

Raefindan helped her to her feet. She scampered off to Mellonin and knelt by Ravion's side. Raefindan paced to Aeron, standing by Gond. The boy's back was straight and his shoulders were high. His face was held in a tight frown and his brows were low in an angry frown. Raefindan walked past him, then turned and faced him directly. He let his hands hang loose at his sides. He knew how his eyes must look; it was the expression from which staring daggers had been derived.

"Boy, I do not know you. Search your heart. Search well."

"But she started-" Aeron began heatedly, but Raefindan had turned away from him, and walked back to the others without so much as a glance for the boy.

[Imladris]

Apparently it was he who had attacked Mellonin. Poor sweet Mellonin who was an innocent flower. A woman that was far above him, a woman who could do no wrong, whose hands could not be stained. A woman who believed herself better than him because she hid behind lies and her own self pity.

And Gwyllion. The little brat. She thought him a monster for what? Because he spoke the truth? Because he protected himself from a mad woman? Because he had tried to stop the fight with a bit of light hearted tickling and then Mellonin had bit him? Because he took care of her? Because he had been willing to go to jail if the blasted ranger did not want to drag her along? Because he took care of her when she had a fit? Because he made sure that she did not come near blood?

He rubbed his fingers through his hair, and wiped the sweat from his brow. That stupid bloody ranger. Automatically siding with the woman. How typical. How extremely typical. The ranger must have blinded his eyes or twisted the truth to serve his own purpose.

"Boy, I do not know you. Search your heart. Search well," Raefindan said.

"But I --" Aeron began to protest. But then he turned away and left.

What was he to search for. The courage to lie?

[mark12_30]

Mellonin rose in a daze, her hands in Ravion's. She took several deep breaths, trying to quiet herself. She felt terribly out of control, and did not like the feeling.

"Are you hurt?" Ravion repeated.

She frowned. Am I hurt? She thought about her body. Shoulders. My shoulders are on fire. My stomach hurts where he punched me. My back aches, my wrists sting, my shins and thigh hurt; my head hurts where he pulled my hair. Oh, my shoulders...

She opened her mouth to reply, and looked at the ranger, and realized how disappointed he must be in her. She dropped her eyes. She had no tears left, so she simply pulled away in shame. He still firmly held her hands. Pain stabbed through her shoulders. She cried out, stopped pulling, and turned her face away instead.

[littlemanpoet]

Fréawine! Ædegard had not thought of him since that day. His throat caught with shame at himself, and he looked down between his knees. He had been asked a question, though, and Liornung had the right of an answer, not least because he had brought that family friend back to mind.

"Fréawine is a friend of my family. His older brother, Fréatheld, was my papa's best friend when they were boys, and Fréawine is Fréatheld's youngest brother. Fréatheld was almost a second father to Fréawine. Fréatheld left his tanner's work, and Fréawine his ostlery to fight under King Eomer in the War. Only Fréawine returned. He has been a close friend to my papa ever since. I could not leave Edoras at all if it were not for Fréawine. 'Tis an evil that I have not remembered him until now!" Ædegard looked away from them, not daring to meet Leafa's eyes. She must think him mean of spirit to be so thoughtless.

[Nurumaiel]

Argeleafa was not at the moment looking at Ædegard, for her eyes were fixed on Bellyn in a manner that was almost a stare. Her cheeks blushed a deep red and then she dropped her head to consider this question. Ædegard had been kind to her, very kind to her, and he had told her she was beauty and had led her for walks in the eveningtime. She had begun to turn to him for protection when she felt afraid, and she had found herself looking at him when he was not looking at her, and thrilling when he met her eyes.

But was it really and truly love? Bellyn wanted to know more about this love, and Argeleafa realized she wanted to know more, as well, for she did not know if she experienced it or not. Love was what drove Amroth on for miles and miles, not wanting rest, wanting only his Nimrodel. And love was what had brought her own parents together in the bloom of youth, and what had called her mother to follow her father when he went to join the wayfarers.

"I don't know," Argeleafa stammered, without looking up. Yet she glanced slightly sideways to see Ædegard, and saw that he was looking at her. She colored again and then she looked up, but not at Bellyn. She looked up at the sky instead, and the starlight caught her eyes and made the impish twinkle that appeared in them seem unearthly, as if she were some mischievous creature of the woods. She looked at Bellyn again, smiling in that same impish way. "Maybe," she said.

[littlemanpoet]

The girl was weakening already. The dreams he had sent had left her fearful; she had the useful flaw of self recrimination, which he could use to his advantage as well. And her heart was drawn to the ranger. All three threads combined, could be worked into a useful leafpack of woe. It was night. He sent her a dream.

In it she walked in the swamp, at the edge of the waters, and the beast rose from beneath the surface. It stretched a tentacle toward her, but as it did so, the tentacle became a slimy hand, and the beast became her brother that she searched for. He called her, begging her to help him. She wanted to help, but was afraid of the water. The more she hesitated, the more pitious her brother's calls. But she could not make her feet move. Then the ranger came to her, spear in hand, and yelled at her to back away from the beast. He pushed her from the edge of the swamp and lofted the spear at her brother as she cried "no!" - the spear caught him in the chest, and the brother's face contorted in agony and despair. Then the brother became the swamp beast, and began to sink back into the water. The ranger said, "See? I told you! You should trust me!" But even as he spoke these words, the ranger became the swamp beast, and the beast became his brother again. The swamp beast moved toward her and wrapped her in its tentacles.

Tharonwe left her mind.

The red haired boy was weak in body, but had shook off the despair. He would be harder to deal with, except that Tharonwe had detected a weakness that the boy could not hide. He had lost a loved one of his own. Tharonwe could see the images in the boy's mind, which were alien to him, for what he saw were things and places that had no bearing, that Tharonwe could sense, on Middle Earth. Lights were bright, but flat; tables and chairs were smooth and comfortable but dead with a sheen that he had not seen. But it was in this place that his love had died. That was perhaps why he was able to dream as Imrazor, of Mithrellas; but it was also why Tharonwe could persuade the boy that Mithrellas had died. He sent the boy a dream.

In it, he staggered back to his home, where his son and daughter waited for him. They asked for news, and told them that their mother had fallen to her death. They could not believe it; as the girl wept, the boy accused his father of aiding in their mother's death, for any true man of the royal lineage of Gondor, would have been heroic enough to save her. Imrazor looked on his son with sorrow, having no words to stanch the bitterness in his son, for his own despair stole his heart of any joy. He sent his son and daughter away, to Dol Amroth, to be brought up and tutored by the wise there, and himself, stayed in his mountain cottage, journeying from time to time, retracing the steps that he and Mithrellas had walked together. All the joy of his life was in the past, and no more joy could he have. No more joy could he ever find. No more joy. No joy.

Tharonwe left his mind, letting the despair echo in the boy's mind, and tying it to the memory of his lost love from his past.

He leaned against the back of his chair and rested. Then he cast his thought toward Nimrodel. She was not hard to find. Her despair was written on the tendrils of thought that issued from the vale where she stay, harbored and cared for by Mithrellas. He would have to reward Nimrodel's serving woman with a quick and painless death, for though she had served his purpose well all these years, she had betrayed Elvenkind by giving her love to a mortal.

Another tendril of thought flew like a hawk on the wind, out of the north and west. Amroth! He was near! And two others! Tharonwe closed his thought from the world, his eyes fierce. He would have to be careful and cunning; doubtless, they would know the nature of his own thought, and would track him down. He would be waiting for them. There was little time to prepare his defense.

[littlemanpoet]

"I don't know," Leafa stammered, without looking up. Then her eyes met Ædegard's. She blushed. He did not want her to feel that she had to say anything on his account, but could not bring any thought into words, as his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. Against his will, his heart was in his throat, for Bellyn's question had probed to the very heart, and Ædegard's back and neck tingled with fear as he wondered how Leafa would answer. She looked up at the sky and the starlight caught her eyes. Of a sudden she seemed akin to woodnymphs he had heard of in stories. She seemed that much the fairer to his eyes.

"Maybe," she said, and smiled. He heard someone humming the tune of the song she had taught him. Then he realized that it was he. She looked to him, her smile unfading. His fingers tingled. He stood, came to her, and sat beside her, still humming the tune. He took her hand in his.

"I will do my best to turn your maybe into yes." He was surprised by his own words. Was it Ædegard who was talking this way? He felt as if he did not know him, but was quite willing to make his acquaintance, for he liked what he heard. Their eyes met, and her smile did not change. Nor did she remove her hand from his, but joined her voice to his; they hummed the tune together.

When the finished, Liornung clapped.

"Nicely done, Ædegard and Argeleafa. Your voices blend well! You should sing together more often, only with words!"

Ædegard dropped Leafa's hand and coughed. He had forgotten that anyone else was there. He went crimson.

"I am sorry if I have troubled you," he said to Leafa as he rose to leave her.

She did not stop him, for it was not her way to make another do as she would, but she said, "You did not trouble me."

He watched her, his eyes large, his face working. She blushed at his attention and smiled again, and looked at the fire. He could think of nothing to say, so he went back to where he had been sitting, and watched the fire too, his mind and his heart working over things he had no reckoning of.

[mark12_30]

Sweat trickled down his skin. Muscles in his arms and face twitched. His breathing came hard and fast.

Erebemlin waited.

"Will you not calm him, Silmaethor?" Taitheneb asked.

Erebemlin shook his head. "He asked for freedom to seek her in his dreams."

Taitheneb hesitated. "Surely he has seen enough, " he said. "The fever-fire burns in him again. He will be weakened."

Erebemlin shook his head. They watched.

Nethwador's mind was wide open, waiting for Amroth to speak to him. But suddenly his head snapped towards Taitheneb. He frowned.

But Taitheneb looked at Erebemlin even as Erebemlin's protective hand came down on Amroth's drenched forehead.

What was that? Nethwador asked.

Taitheneb and Erebemin exchanged glances, and Erebemlin shook his head, and frowned.

[Orual]

When Mellonin pulled away, Ravion just stood there mutely, confused beyond expression. What had he done this time? "Mell--" he began, but broke off. There was nothing to say. The right words would not come to him, and whatever words did would undoubtedly be wrong. Such was his luck.

Mellonin walked a little ways away, and Ravion stared after her. Whatever it was that he had done, or said, or failed to do, or failed to say, he needed to apologize. But what would he say? Mellonin, I am sorry for whatever it was I did. Or did not do. Whatever it was, I am sorry. Of course, that would clear everything right up.

He looked at Gwyllion, still shaken from passing out; Aeron, still sulking by Gond; Mellonin, standing just a few steps away; and Raefindan, looking almost as confused as Ravion himself.

Ah, Raefindan!

Ravion went up to the red-haired man. "Raefindan, I do not know what to do," he said in a quiet voice. "Have I offended Mellonin? Have I said something? You know her better than I. What should I do?"

[alaklondewen]

Erebemlin frowned deeply as he pressed his palm to Amroth's drenched forehead. Although the elf had not entered the king’s dreams, he had watched over them, hoping to gather more clues to the whereabouts of Nimrodel. At first the dreams had been dark and dusty, but not as severe as what was to come. The nightmares steadily became wilder, maddening with bitterness, confusion, and rage. As they began to climax, and Taitheneb became concerned about Amroth’s physical well-being, another’s thoughts met and crossed the dreams, and as quickly as it came it shut off like a candle in the wind.

Nethwador’s dark, wide eyes looked to the elves for answers, but they provided none. He had felt a dark presence and was visibly shaken.

Erebemlin raised his eyes from Amroth’s face to meet those of Taitheneb. The elder furrowed his brows and pulled his lips into a straight crease. It came from the south and west, I believe. Taitheneb nodded slowly, but remained silent in his thoughts. Erebemlin looked over the other travelers, who all lay sleeping soundly around the fire. None of them had felt what Nethwador felt, and the elf was glad. Looking back to Amroth, Erebemlin saw the king lay still. His breathing was slower, but his skin still glistened in the moonlight.

Lying back, Erebemlin stretched out his long legs and looked to the stars. Did you sense surprise in the thought? As though the stranger found one he knew.

It is hard to say, Silmaethor. The mind was closed as soon as we crossed it.

Yes, which is very curious, do you not think? Erebemlin rolled onto his side and looked at his companion. One might think he did not wish to be seen. We must keep a closer eye on Amroth’s dreams…we may come across this fleeting mind again.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

When all quieted and Bellyn finally drifted into sleep, she tossed and turned in restlessness. Her dreams were strange, and though Bellyn wished to waken she also wished to find the meaning in the dreams. Bellyn saw a stormy sea, grey and violent beneath a sunless sky. There was a maiden with flowing hair and eyes colored the same as the stormy sea. The lady stood on a lonely hill, watching and waiting for something. When the scenery changed, Bellyn dreamt of Liornung in a happy tavern, singing and playing his fiddle before Argeleafa and Ædegard. In the dream Bellyn even saw their elven companions, watching Nethwador dance to Liornung's tunes. The only one of her new friends that she did not see was Amroth. Bellyn turned over several times until she finally awoke from the strange visions of sleep.

When she did wake, the sun had not yet risen. She could, however, see slivers of golden sun peaking over the horizon, lighting the grass and land in a solemn, graceful shade of dusty yellow upon deep green. Bellyn sat up, seeing Ædegard and Liornung stir, while Argeleafa remained sound asleep. Looking back she saw that the lovely elves watched over Amroth with Nethwador kneeling right beside them in wait. Amroth seemed to have tossed and turned more than Bellyn had, and she saw his sweat and the worry even in his dreaming face. Bellyn despaired at the sight, knowing there was little she could do to help, but still wishing that she could help.

When she saw Ædegard wake and Liornung yawn nearby, Bellyn stood from her spot and went to where the elves, Nethwador, and Amroth were. Walking over, Bellyn sat slowly next to Nethwador, watching Amroth silently dream.

"Does he see her often in his dreams?" Bellyn asked in a whisper, uncertain of the visions that materialized in Amroth's dreams. Erebemlin nodded, saying naught. Bellyn felt rather guilty in her inability to help Amroth in some way. Seeing him in pain and having no means of making him feel better brought feelings of helplessness to Bellyn. She sighed, turning to both the elves. "I hope we are not a burden to his journey."

[littlemanpoet]

"Raefindan, I do not know what to do," Ravion said in a quiet voice. "Have I offended Mellonin? Have I said something? You know her better than I. What should I do?"

Raefindan regarded Ravion, whose expression matched his words.

"What does your heart tell you, Ravion?"

Ravion looked confused. "My heart? It but beats."

Raefindan allowed a hint of a smile. "Your heart of hearts."

Ravion shook his head. "I seek to do as well as I can to lead this group in its search for Mellonin's brother."

"And she has thanked you."

Ravion's eye brow lifted. "It did not sound that way to hear her speak it."

Raefindan moved closer to Ravion, and spoke so that only he could hear him. "She is a woman, as you know. Listen not to the clear meaning of her words, but to the heart that speaks through the words."

Now Ravion looked more confused than ever. "My thanks, Raefindan," he replied hesitantly. "I have spoken to women before, and it has never been this hard."

"Why do you suppose that is, Ravion?"

"I do not know!" He whispered in exasperation. "Tell me!"

"That is something I cannot tell you. Think on it for yourself, my friend."

Ravion's jaw muscles worked. He threw his hands up in exasperation. "I am a ranger! I can read a trail, hear the faintest sound on the breeze. I can track any wild beast, and some not so wild." His eyes gravitated toward Aeron. He lowered his voice but his words came out in a harsh whisper. "Reading that woman is beyond this ranger's skill." He turned and walked away. "Help me set camp, Raefindan."

[Imladris]

Gwyllion swayed unsteadily on her feet and wondered if fainting or having a fit was better....they both fell nasty afterwards. That much was certain. She felt as if her legs had turned to water and as if her head had become hollow. Odd. Very odd.

Why had she gone into a faint anyway? The fight. The blood from Aeron's nose. Why did he have to be so blunt? So typical of a boy.

She crept toward Aeron who was standing next to Grond. He raised his head, saw that it was her, frowned at her, and then turned away. Gwyllion felt her pale cheeks grow red and she wanted to hit him. Why was he like that? All because she had called him a monster! Half of it was in fun and half was not and he should have known better!

But no, instead of welcoming her, asking if she was alright, he goes and turns away! It would not be so bad if he pushed her away. "Aeron?" she asked. "What is the matter."

"The matter is," he said, face turned away. "You betrayed me. Ravion turned the truth into a mean rotten dirty lie. Mellonin attacked me for no reason. Raefindan told me to search my heart carefully --" here is voice twisted into a mocking imitation -- "as if there is anything to find."

"Aeron," said Gwyllion, "you can be blunt, just do not put a dagger in it. You hurt Mellonin's feelings."

He did not turn his head.

Gwyllion licked her lips. "Aeron! Please look at me."

"No. You are dead to me. Go away."

Gwyllion considered hurling a pile of mud at him but when a search did not reveal a handy mud bog she changed her mind and said, "Aeron...try to look at it from Mellonin's point of view. Please."

She watched him and then slumped to the ground on the other side of Grond. What a grand day it had been today.

[mark12_30]

Morning of Dec. 24 ~ Erebemlin and Taitheneb

"I hope we are not a burden to his journey."

The young woman looked to the elves with sincere, child-like eyes. Erebemlin tipped his head to one side and studied her mortal face. He had not paid the humans much attention thus far, yet he did not think of them as burdens. Rather, he thought nothing of them. The elder had never cared much for the ways of Men. They acted too quickly, were too emotional, and did not pause long enough to see the true beauty of creation. Now this young pleasant looking woman sat before him with concern lining her small features…concern for his king.

Erebemlin had always thrown himself completely and utterly into his duty. Little attention had he ever paid to personal relationships that went beyond loyalty to his king and land.

Taitheneb, on the other hand, felt a twinge of sorrow at the thought of the young Bellyn considering herself a burden. He too tipped his head as he studied her pretty face, although, instead of the curiosity seen in Erebemlin’s eyes, the younger elf’s eyes twinkled and small creases formed at their corners. “Nay, my lady. You have been no burden.”

Bellyn looked away with her face newly flushed, and Taitheneb continued. “Your songs have been a comfort to Lord Amroth, and just look at the young man beside you.” Nethwador looked up, and his eyes darted from the elf’s face to Bellyn’s and back again. “Much of the eagerness to learn and be civil has been inspired by you, lady. Nay, you are not a burden…you are a blessing.”


*~*~*


Amroth opened his eyes and tried to sit up. A slight groan escaped him. Nethwador was at his side in an instant. Amroth rolled onto his stomach, and raised himself up to his hands and knees. His voice was hoarse, his face contorted. "What ails me this day? Have I not slept the night through?" Rather than stand, he sat back on his heels, with his hands on his knees. He took a deep breath, and steadied by Nethwador, looked around.

Taitheneb, Erebemlin, and lady Bella sat nearby.

He greeted each with a nod.

Nethwador, you lift me like a son his dotard father. Amroth frowned. Dotard? That was a mannish word. Where had that come from?

Erebemlin watched his lord carefully. But Amroth gazed at lady Bella, and began to smile at her. Leaning on Nethwador, he sat cross-legged, straightened and met Bella's eyes again. "Good morning, lady Bella. You are as welcome to my eyes this dawn as a wild rose. And that is well, for of flowers I have seen none since late autumn." He smiled again and studied her face as if he would draw it. Nethwador, beside him, followed his lead.

Bella dropped her eyes, and smiled. "Thank you, lord Amroth. Can I do aught to cheer you? A meal, perhaps?"

His brows furrowed for one moment. "Nay, Erebemlin or Taitheneb will bring us breakfast," he said, and Taitheneb rose. Amroth's smile returned. "You, lady, would give me great joy were you to sing. My soul is heavy with grief, and your song is like a south wind. Please, lady. Sing."

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Sometimes I just feel like I should be doing more to help, Bellyn thought. Her smile could not be concealed and her gratitude towards the Elves and their kind words was unspeakable. Her smile and spark of belonging acted as her only means of thanks. When Amroth spoke of breakfast Taitheneb stood, and Amroth continued, and with a smile upon his weary face he requested that Bellyn sing for him. Her brows knitted together, joy in her dark eyes that something as simple as singing could make someone happy. It was all so much simpler than she had thought.

“I would gladly sing for you, Lord Amroth,” Bellyn said, honesty in her voice as she stood and looked to the rising sun before turning back and looking to Amroth and Nethwador. With a final smile she let her voice ring in song for Amroth.

"We are pilgrims on a journey.
We are friends upon the road.
I will help you tread for miles;
I will help carry your load.

We will travel far from home now,
We will go where no one goes.
Hope remains when there is faith,
And our walking never slows.

If you grow tired I will help you!
We will keep each other strong.
Upon the road I met you,
On this road we do no wrong.

You tell your tales and laugh with us.
I listen as you sing for me!
We walk by day, sing at night,
Enjoying your company.

Companions on the sad journey,
Friends walking the hardest trail.
Some day we will reach the end,
'Til then our bond shall not fail.

We are pilgrims on a journey.
We are friends upon the road.
I will help you tread for miles;
I will help carry your load..."

After her last note faded, Bellyn paused and then she knelt quickly down next to Amroth, taking one of his hands in hers. "Lord Amroth, nothing is better left unsaid. Reality is swiftly becoming a nightmare’s fatality, and I promise I can be brave if I need to be...if you need it to be so. I promise!” When she finished speaking, Bellyn let Amroth’s hand loose and stood from her spot next to him.

[mark12_30]

Amroth took a deep breath, and with it, savored Bella's promise. He nodded. "The courage of a lady is both glorious and beautiful. I treasure it, lady, for it reminds me of one I love more than life." Bella looked at him in surprise; beside him, Nethwador watched her also, his eyes brimming with tenderness under which a fire yet burned.

She looked back at Amroth, unsure what to say.

Amroth looked from her to Nethwador, to the rest of the company, and back at her, and spoke again. "Think not that you burden me. I have left home, country, and kingdom for my Nimrodel. Yet I grieve not for Laurelindorinan. You, new friends and old, have become my bond-kin. Among you I find fealty, strength, pity, courage, and gladness. Dawn after dawn, I rise and search with the strength and fealty I find in all of these my friends. Yet though I gain fealty and courage from all of you, little thanks do I give you. The fault is mine; forgive me. I thank you now."

"All is forgiven, for my part, " Bella replied.

Amroth bowed his head, and continued. "Yet further service you, Bella, have rendered me," he said.

She shook her head, and waited with knitted brows.

"Though I seem to touch Nimrodel in my dreams, the touch is dark and hopeless, and in many ways brings me no comfort. Seeing you in the dawn strengthens my sweet memories of her. Your grace reminds me of hers. When I hear you sing, I remember her song. The light on your dark hair reminds me of the shine in hers. Your walk reminds me of her dance, your laughter reminds me of her joy. And so the despair gives way again to hope." He studied her. "Lady Bella, hope is a gift indeed. And you give it me dawn after dawn."

Bella had already blushed, but when she glanced at Nethwador and saw worship in his eyes, she turned crimson. Rising hastily she curtseyed, stammered "Thanks, my lord; By your leave, my Lord-- thank you, my lord, " and retreated to join the Rohirrim.

Taitheneb brought breakfast. Erebemlin raised one eyebrow as he received his bread and wine. "Bella is fair for a man, lord Amroth, but surely you liken a sparrow to a nightingale." Nethwador glared indignantly at Erebemlin.

Taitheneb gave food to Nethwador and Amroth, and turned to bring Bella her breakfast, but Amroth halted him with one hand.

Raising his wine in salute to Erebemlin, Amroth said, "I am hemmed round by hawks, faithful and stern. In such company, the song of the sparrow is a sweet gift and her gentleness provides real joy, my friend." Amroth sent a wry but sparkling glance toward his tall friend. "See to it, my faithful Hawk, that you do not mistake the charming sparrow for a mere mouse. Great would be my wrath. Yet mine would pale beside my young brother."

Erebemlin laughed, and flinched from Nethwador in mock-terror. "Ai! Ai!"

Amroth turned to Nethwador. "Bella has no breakfast; see to it, little brother."

Nethwador gathered Bella's food, forgetting his own, and eagerly brought it to her. A few minutes later, Taitheneb brought Nethwador his forgotten breakfast, but not til Bella had shyly given Nethwador a peice of her bread.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin, alone for a moment at last, took several deep, ragged breaths, and then walked to the stream. She brushed off her clothes as she could, washed her hands and face several times, and after sniffing the water, drank some. She was quite cold when she finished, but she paused, and squinted at her reflection in the water.

She was disappointed; she had hoped that she would resemble her brother, but all she saw was a red-faced, red-eyed girl with dishevelled and torn hair wearing boys' clothing.

Why was she trying to act like a man anyway? As if she wanted to become one? Hardly.

No, she reminded herself, it was simply safer for men to travel than for women to travel. Travelling with a woman made her companions vulnerable to the wolves. She took a deep breath. In order not to further endanger Raefindan, Ravion, and dear sweet Gwyllion, she thought, she must pull herself together, and fight, and be brave and strong.

She looked back at the camp. Ravion and Raefindan were setting up camp. Gwyllion was sitting on the ground beside Gond. Aeron was on the far side of the horse. She took a deep breath, and another, and set her jaw and marched back to camp. She walked past Raefindan with a nod, and past Ravion who did not meet her gaze, and went to Gwyllion, and put one hand on her shoulder.

"Gwyllion, we need water for the tea and the stew. Will you come and help me carry it?"

[Imladris]

So after Mellonin had punched him the nose, torn his sister from him, she wanted Gwyllion to help her carry water. "Excuse me," he said, turnin his head and staring down his nose at her, "but I was talking to her. And, would you please leave us be."

Gwyllions forehead crinkled in a frown, and her mouth opened. Aeron sent her a warning glare which promptly made her shut it.

"But I need help," Mellonin protested.

Aeron stood up, and shook the hair out of his eyes. Her eyes were red with tears -- he had not cried of course -- and her cheeks were puffy. He glared at her. "So, you are strong enough to fight yet not to work. My isn't that convenient for you."

He could see Gwyllion cringe as Mellonin took a deep breath. Her eyes flashed and her fingers were beginning to clench. Then she buttoned up her limps and stomped away.

"Stupid, lazy, woman," Aeron muttered as he began to groom Grond.

"So what conversation were we having?" asked Gwyllion, smiling a little at him.

"I don't want you working with her. She's a....a...." he muttered something unintelligable.

"Aeron, I am sorry," said Gwyllion softly.

Aeron looked at her, her brown eyes so soft and sad. Why did she look at him like that? It was annoying, it made him feel as if he liked her again. "I'm still mad at you," he said, trying to frown.

"I thought that I was dead to you," said Gwyllion, winking.

Aeron scoffed. "You silly thing, Gwyllion."

"I still think that you could have been nicer, Aeron."

Of course she would get around to that. It was the typical female gentleness glimmering through her. "I told the truth."

"But --"

"Oh would you just come off it!" he shouted, punching her lightly on the shoulder.

"It?"

"I don't know, ask Raefindan." What was it referring to anyway? He shrugged. What did it matter. It stated his feelings exactly.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin made two trips to the stream, eyes locked on the ground each way, filling four water skins. She reached for the kettle to make a third trip, but a hand was placed over hers. Raefindan took the kettle. "Walk with me, " he said.

They walked to the stream together.

At the stream, Raefindan set the kettle down, and spoke.

"Tell me of your brother."

She heaved a deep sigh, and nodded. "He is gentle, and helpful, and kind. And he never gives me orders and never mocks me."

"Unlike our young friend yonder."

"Very unlike."

"Your brother loves you very much."

"He would always help me. Always cheer me. He never gave me cause for sorrow."

Raefindan frowned. "Never?"

"Never, " she repeated, firmly. "He was the kindest, gentlest boy I've ever known. He always listened, always cared, always gave me aid. I never bore a struggle alone; he was always by my side."

Raefindan nodded. "Now he cannot share your sorrow. But to make matters worse, he is the cause of it. Is he not?"

One hand went to her lips, and she nodded, but frowned, and shook her head. "I promised I would be strong henceforth, " she choked.

Raefindan said, "Then be strong enough for honesty." He waited.

After several tries she said through her teeth, "Why did he leave me? Why? How could he do that to me?" Anger and grief mixed in her face, and she pressed both hands to her lips and fought back the tears. Raefindan put one hand on her shoulder, and she grasped his forearm. He waited as her angry tears fell. They subsided, only to be followed by tears of sadness.

By the time they returned to the camp with the kettle of water, Ravion had the rest of the camp ready and was tending to Gwyllion with Aeron's help. Raefindan and Mellonin set a rock in the fire and set the kettle on the rock.

[littlemanpoet]

As night fell, Raefindan sat next to Aeron before the fire. Ravion sat across from Raefindan; Gwyllion was hunched near the fire to Aeron's right. To Raefindan's left, Mellonin stared balefully at the flames, and between her and Ravion snuggled Jorje, close enough to the fire to feel its warmth, not so close as to get his tail snagged by an errant cinder.

Raefindan cast a measuring glance at Aeron, whose brows were furrowed. The red haired man considered the boy, if boy he was. A man or boy fighting with a young woman simply was not done; at least, not where Raefindan came from. It was considered in bad taste; but worse, it was misogynist.

Raefindan stopped in his mental tracks.

What kind of word was that? It was from wherever he had been before here, and whatever its roots, it meant that a man or boy hated women. Now, this could not be true of Aeron, as such, for he cared deeply for Gwyllion, having spent great energies and huge lies persuading them to take her with. Unless she was the only female he allowed himself to care for. If he was really a he. If he was actually a she, well then, fighting a young woman was no longer beyond the pale. Raefindan cast Aeron another glance and considered. Imagine, two women dressing up as young men... Aeron certainly did the better job of faking it, if he - or she - was faking it. It was hard to tell if Aeron had the chin scruff typically ascribed to adolescent boys.

Raefindan stopped in his mental tracks again. Adolescent? He rolled his eyes and let the word pass. Youth, then. And Aeron's fighting had been far more masculine than Mellonin's, come to think of it.

Raefindan stopped in his mental tracks yet again. Masculine. He shook his head and plowed through to the next thought, strange words be hanged! No, this was most likely a boy. Which brought Raefindan back around to the original quandary.

Raefindan stopped - momentarily - and plunged forward. This boy did not act like someone who wanted to beat women on a regular basis. Rather, he seemed like one whose ire had been piqued - Raefindan sauntered forward in his thought - and he had acted out of the norm. Fair enough. But he had been quite willing to act out of the norm, and seemed now to act as if he had done no such thing. Leaning upon the wealth of knowledge he had earned from he knew not where - smirking inwardly at the irony - Raefindan concluded that Aeron had had a difficult childhood, forced to make do on his own, and had not had the priviledge to learn the finer points of etiquette; perhaps hadn't learned the not so fine points, for that matter.

Raefindan held back from deciding it was his duty to teach the lad such lessons, for it would do no good if Aeron desired no such training. But at least it helped explain the situation, and seemed more likely to be accurate than not.

One question remaind in Raefindan's mind. Aeron was apt to shout "women!" from time to time. Where had he learned that, and what did it mean to him? Why not find out?

Raefindan breathed deep and sighed. "Ah, the night smells fresh, does it not?"

He glanced at Aeron, who turned away.

Raefindan shrugged. "I only wish to converse, Aeron."

Aeron's eyes flickered to Raefindan's face. "Con ... verse. What kind of word is that? I know verse, but what is con?"

"Another of my useless words. It means to talk together."

Aeron shrugged. "Talk if you like."

"Well," Raefindan said, "I'm wondering who taught you that way of referring to the fairer sex; I refer to your penchant for shouting in frustration, "Women!"

Aeron squinted his eye at Raefindan. "You have been too much in your own head, Raefindan. I have no idea what you just said."

"Which words threw you off?"

What is re-fearing? How do you chant with a pen? And fresh and tray and shin? Nobody but you would put those words together."

"Forgive me, Aeron. Useless words again. I'll try again. Who taught you to yell "Women!" when you are upset with a lass or lady?"

Aeron shook his head. "How in Middle Earth that was the same thing as fresh shins and trays and chanting with pens, I could not guess. But to answer your question..."

[Orual]

Ravion paced by Gond, his hands behind his back. "I need to talk to you, Mellonin," he said quietly. Gond looked at him impassively. "Mellonin, do you have a moment? I would have a little of your time, if you are not otherwise occupied." Gond whinnied and shook his head. Ravion sighed. "I agree. Poorly done."

He leaned against Gond's neck, burying his face in his horse's mane. "She will not listen," he said, his voice muffled. "But that will be fine: I will not know what to say."

He stood up and went over to Mellonin. Raefindan was speaking with Aeron, so Ravion hung back momentarily. However, when he realized that they were in a lighthearted conversation, he rested his hand gently on Mellonin's shoulder. She whirled around.

"Is there a problem?" she asked, still tense.

"Mellonin, do you have a moment?" he asked.

"I--"

"Because I would have a bit of your time, if you are not otherwise occupied," Ravion continued, right over Mellonin. There was an awkward silence, and Ravion cringed. Luckily it was almost imperceptible.

"I...am not otherwise occupied," she said hesitantly, following Ravion away from the cluster. "Ravion, what is this--"

"Mellonin, I am afraid that I said something to offend you," he said abruptly. She broke off. "I do not know what it was. But...I did not wish to offend you." His voice dropped and became very quiet. "There are few things I wish less." He coughed, and his voice regained its volume. "And quarrels within a company such as ours leads to lack of...care, and lack of care can lead to hurt. If there is something that needs to be settled, I would like to settle it as soon as possible."

Gond whickered in the background disapprovingly as Ravion awaited Mellonin's response.

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung tripped merrily here and there, humming softly under his breath and doing nothing in particular. He paused a moment by the horses to stroke them and whisper to them in the Rohirric tongue, and then he would move on to rummage through his pack to make sure nothing was lost. At last he sat and picked up his fiddle and began to lightly play a little tune. Argeleafa had in the meantime awoken and came hesitatingly towards him. When he looked up at her and smiled she gained in confidence and stood before him, and said, "Liornung, I would beg the favor of speaking with you alone for a moment."

"Why, yes, most gracious lady of song and dance," he said, standing once again, "though I have never seen you dance." She smiled faintly at him; there was no doubt about his mood today: he was most happy and cheerful. He offered her his right arm, and she took it, and he continued the tune he had been playing as he led her apart from the group. At a safe distance where they would not be heard, he laid his fiddle gently down and studied her face intently. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright, and she seemed eager, yet she also seemed anxious. Liornung could hardly suppress a chuckle, for he knew what she desired to speak about.

"Liornung, you have always seemed to be very intelligent, and dare I say wise," she said. He laughed and bowed low, and while she did not seem annoyed by this it seemed to disturb her, and she grasped his arm, saying, "Please stop a moment and listen. What I have to say, or rather ask, is very serious."

Liornung held back the playful remark that sprang to his lips and let his face fall into an expression grave and somber. After all, she did seem to consider her question very serious, and as he reflected on it he supposed it was. "You no doubt heard the conversation last night," she said, "and heard how Bellyn asked me what I thought of Ædegard, and how I answered, and how he told me he should try to turn my 'maybe' into a 'yes.' I will tell you truthfully, Liornung, that I do not think I am unwilling to say 'yes' next time I am asked that question, but I do not know if it would be wise."

"And why not?" said Liornung, very, very gravely, though inwardly he was roaring with laughter.

"Because I know nothing about Ædegard, save that I think him very kind, and very good."

"I should think that would be enough."

She seemed confused at this. "Well... I... you see, I want to go about this concern as my mother would have wished. That is, I should like to know more about him before I consent to his... attentions."

"What a modest little thing you are," said Liornung. "Do you mean consenting when he asks you to wed him?" She blushed violently but nodded. He smiled. "Leafa, you think he is good, and I think he is good, and the company thinks he is good, and from the stories of his past he has told us he has always acted in a good way; also he loves you deeply, and you have few doubts left that you love him as well. What more do you wish?"

"I... don't know," she said, and then cried out, "What is his home like?"

"How hard you try to be proper! Your mother would wish you to marry a man you knew about, a man you knew was good and would care for you. In other words, she would want you to be careful. I will tell you about his home. His home is Rohan, and Rohan is his home. And he is good, and he would take care of you, which is what you need. Again I say, what more do you wish?"

"But it seems too easy!"

The laughter that he had held within him burst forth, and he took her hands, gazing mirthfully into her face. "Little girl, little girl!" he said. "For you are a little girl. If it is easy is that not good? Would you enjoy to hear that he was in fact a tyrant, that he was a rogue, because that would be hard? Aren't you glad that he is good and kind, that he will take care of you? Lassie, if he asks you to wed him say 'yes' without hesitation. Tell him you will marry him; it will make you both happy."

"Perhaps I will," said she, "but I should like to consider it more."

"Persist in foolishness as long as you wish," said Liornung. "As long as you follow my advice in the end you will be all right. Shall we return?" She nodded silently and he picked up his fiddle again and began to play and sing a little song as they went back to the others.

"As I was walking one morning
not intending to go very far
I came to where the waves lapped
against a little hill by the shore.

And there was a lad there
and he walked to and for
and stern and fair were his features
as he stood on the hill by the shore.

He turned and smiled at me
and then I could not ask for more
for dearly I loved him at that sight,
the lad on the hill by the shore.

He sat beside me and spoke
of things of ancient lore
and of many things he told me
as we sat on the hill by the shore.

We sat together till evening;
with each minute I loved him more
and I wished he loved me too,
the lad on the hill by the shore.

When night came he took my hand
and said love for me he bore.
Happier I have never been
than there on the hill by the shore.

And then he said he could not stay
and I would never see him more
and down the path he went away,
away from the hill by the shore.

His words were true, my heart he broke,
and never did I see him more
I had hoped to stay a little while
with the lad on the hill by the shore."

[Imladris]

A grin flashed across Aeron's face. Had the red haired man purpose riddled his speech with strange words because he knew he liked it? Aeron shrugged. The way he could work his strange magic with words was astounding. "How in Middle Earth that was the same thing as fresh shins and trays and chanting with pens, I could not guess. But to answer your question --" he stopped at cocked an eyebrow. How was the best way to answer this question? "I say it for a simple reason. They baffle me." He grinned. "I do not understand why women pine. It is very silly."

Gwyllion's head jerked up and she said, "And I do not understand why men must be like rocks." She twisted her face into a blank sheet and then added, "They plod on the road of life as if they did not feel its...its..." she fumbled for a word "its curves and roots. And women do not pine," she added.

Aeron laughed. Such like a woman to go off on a tangent and then to suddenly veer towards the subject. He punched her playfully on the shoulder and said, "Who keeps on insisting that her father will come back when he left us years ago?"

Her face went white and she bit her lip. "Call it hope, sir."

"Eternal optimism," Raefindan murmured.

"Eternal what?" asked Aeron, grinning.

"Another strange word, Aeron."

"I answered your question I hope?" he asked. Please say I did...

[littlemanpoet]

"I answered your question I hope?" Aeron asked.

In a manner of speaking, he had; but it was not the kind of answer Raefindan had been seeking. Before he answered, he studied Gwyllion; what she had said about curves and roots had moved him, like a hand stirring the water of a deep, murky pool that had lain still and cold for a long time. Raefindan turned to Aeron.

"You did. I had been thinking that there must have been some old, hardened ragroot of a man who you often hung about, had used the word, and you had caught and owned it for yourself. But maybe not. Mind you, I am not all rock, myself, and I have been known to pine. Man and woman are not so easily set apart from each other as you might think. Is that not so, Gwyllion?"

She beamed back at him, thrilled that he honored her thought back to her. "Yes, it is so! You are a wise man!"

Aeron laughed. "Only because he agreed with you!"

Raefindan grinned, then stretched and yawned. "It is time for me to turn in. Good night to the both of you."

The bid him a good sleep, and he left them by the fire. Jorje's head came up, and he watched Raefindan walking away. He trotted around the fire and fell in step at Raefindan's heel.

"Good dog."

It had been a long, hard day, filled with trouble. It seemed that Ravion and Mellonin were trying to mend fences, which was good. Raefindan climbed into his sleeping mat, and Jorje huddled beside him; he was glad for the extra warmth. He soon fell asleep.

His dreams were troubled again. He retraced his steps through the mountains, following the path he had trod the day he had hunted for Mithrellas. He came to the cliff edge between to monolithic boulders that joined to form a rough arch. Mithrellas's body was there, as it always was, broken on the rock below as if she had just fallen a minute ago. He despaired. His son and daughter had turned their backs on him in his mourning, choosing to find happiness away from home in Dol Amroth. He could not find joy, never again. He leaned forward, tipped, his knees locked straight, he leaned further, his head dropped below his feet and he fell. The fall was long ... would it never end? The rock strewn gorge sped up to him. The rocks were marbles, then fists, then maces, then battering rams, then boulders, and then contact. He woke up. Was he dead? It did not seem like the floor of a gorge. No, it was very cold. He could see stars above, and the snoring of another. Ravion. He was in the marsh of the Entwash. He shook his head again. He feared that he would dream that dream again. Sleep fled far away for the rest of the night.

[mark12_30]

"You, " she replied, and looked away, "have said nothing to offend me. Yet I see you have much to contend with, and the quarrels and hurt must not go on."

Ravion waited. The cold steel of Mellonin's voice went on.

"Of quarrels and hurt, were I the leader of this group, I should leave the cause of such quarrels behind at the next village. Yet it is my brother we are looking for, and without me you will be hard pressed to know if you have found him or not. My only care, I assure you, is to find my brother. As for the rest save Raefindan, I cannot say what they care for; I do not envy you." Without another glance at him, she returned to the group.

[mark12_30]

Lost in thought, Amroth stroked Echo's nose, and the horse leaned against him as if sensing his weariness.

Nethwador looked on, and spoke in the Wainrider's tongue. "That horse is too tall for you."

Amroth looked at him and smiled. Then yours is too tall for you as well, for you stand no taller than I.

Nethwador looked at Amroth in surprise, and then considered his own horse. It was true, yet he had always planned to grow tall enough to fit this horse.

Amroth continued. He is red like Echo, and tall, and truly he loves you. Does he have a name?

Nethwador shrugged. Wanderer. He was lost. I found him, and kept him. There was some guilt in the statement, yet Amroth sensed it was at least partially true.

Perhaps others were looking for him as well?

Perhaps.

Amroth laughed long and loud, and both men and elves turned to look at him.

"Come," he cried. "Let us ride! Erebemlin, Nethwador's horse needs an elvish name. In his own tongue, he is named Wanderer."

"Are you not weary, my lord?" Erebemlin asked, as others in the camp hastened to finish packing and mount.

"In body, " Amroth laughed. "Yet my heart is light. I was with her in my dreams, Erebemlin. She is here, somewhere in these lands. And despite dust and death and despair, I will find her!"

His leap onto the tall Echo was awkward for his weariness, but Echo sidestepped underneath him and swung southeast at a steadily increasing pace. Erebemlin hurried to join him as did Nethwador. Taitheneb dallied, til the men-folk joined him, and then they hastened to catch up.

[littlemanpoet]

Ædegard wondered what the sudden rush was all about. He urged his mount toward Taitheneb and asked him for word.

"Lord Amroth has been with Nimrodel in his dreams, and is eager to find her. He is light of heart this day." Taitheneb nodded toward the man who had been a youthful blacksmith until a little over a week ago, and Ædegard saw that it was so.

"My thanks, Taitheneb."

Ædegard let his horse slow to the pace of the other humans, who asked what he had learned, and he passed on his information.

"That is well," said Liornung. "Maybe we are close to the end of our quest. I grow eager to drink and sing at the taverns of Edoras again."

Ædegard glanced at Argeleafa. Liornung's words had put a worry into her eyes. Ædegard closed with her until they rode side by side.

"You seem ill at ease of a sudden, Leafa. What ails you?"

She colored slightly and glanced at him. "If this quest is soon over, I must return to my father among the wanderers."

Ædegard could not stop himself. 'It need not be so! Come with me to Edoras!"

Leafa colored more and smiled. She glanced at Liornung, who had been humming one of his tunes; he grinned and winked at Leafa. She went crimson and her smile was covered by her free hand.

"I am missing something," Ædegard said, an involuntarily half smile coming to his face. "Tell me, please."

Leafa met his eyes, the color retreating from her face for the most part. "What would we do in Edoras, Ædegard?"

"We - I - " They were to it. Did he mean to say what he had thought to? Or were there other things that should be said first? He had thought that he might need to go to her father and ask for his blessing first, but that would not be at Edoras. "We could - you could - " Leafa watched him, her lips pursed, a smile in her eyes, expectant. This would not do.

"Hold!" He cried to all the riders, and grabbed Leafa's reins while keeping hold of his own, and slowed their horses. When they were stopped, he dismounted and went straightway to Leafa's mount. The other humans had slowed and were watching him, but the Elves continued after Amroth. He reached up to Leafa and placed his hands on her waist.

"Please."

She leaned and let herself fall into his arms, and he stood her on the grass. He went down on one knee. Their eyes locked.

"Marry me, Leafa."

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Bellyn moved quickly to grab her things and leave with the rest of her human companions. Amroth had ridden ahead, bringing Nethwador and Erebemlin with him while Taitheneb waited patiently for the rest of the company to gather their belongings and bring down camp. Taitheneb explained the reason for Amroth’s rushing, and Bellyn smiled at the thought of Amroth’s lightened heart and happy spirit. All will be well again, for a while…Bellyn thought happily, her face fresh and her eyes smiling though her mouth did not. Then we shall return home.

The thought struck Bellyn for a moment, and she wondered how she would feel at leaving her new friends. Liornung had made such a wonderful friend, musical and joyous, always ready to please and to comfort. Would she ever see him again after the journey ended? And Ædegard had done well to show Bellyn not to judge on first impressions, and ways of the road and of life. Argeleafa had made a grand addition to the troop, and Bellyn had enjoyed her company and their small talks. The two Elves, Erebemlin and Taitheneb, had inspired Bellyn just by being. The Elves were beautiful in some way that Bellyn could not explain, could not say, but she certainly had every desire to depict them as best she could with her art when she returned home. Nethwador, or Mellon (surely no longer Pig!), had shown transformation, for which Bellyn was exceedingly proud and happy of. What would happen when Amroth found his love? Would any of them ever see him again? Would they meet the one lady who had haunted so many of his dreams? Bellyn tried not to shake these thoughts from her mind, for the thoughts of departure and parting from her new friends saddened her more than she had thought they would.

When all humans had mounted and proved ready to ride after Amroth and his lightened heart, Taitheneb began to lead the way and they all followed. Bellyn heard talk of the journey ending, going home to Edoras, and things of that nature as she rode on the outside of the group. She did her best not to think of such things even as they were being spoken of. Still, Bellyn could not ignore the sudden cry from Ædegard, telling all within hearing range to halt for a moment. Turning back, Bellyn saw that Ædegard had dismounted, and Argeleafa had followed suit.

Looking to Liornung with confusion, Bellyn’s brows knit in confusion. “What do you think of this, Liornung?” She received no answer from him, for he merely smiled and brought a finger to his lips for silence. Bellyn nodded, and looked back to where the two Rohirrim stood. Shock mixed with some emotion near horror when Ædegard kneeled and grasped Argeleafa’s hand. He’s not…

“Marry me, Leafa.”

Bellyn gasped.

Her mixed horror faded, and soon it was only shock and adoration that filled her face. Such bravery! Bellyn before had only imagined bravery in the battlefields where men died for what they believed in. Now she saw new meaning in the word before her, and she also likened such bravery to the ways and travels of Amroth. Ædegard had done what Bellyn had never done…requested the love of another, requested the life of another forever and eternity. While the Gondorian girl doubted that Argeleafa would refuse, Bellyn wondered at the bravery of Ædegard in the chance of rejection. Then Bellyn remembered the journey of Amroth, and his bravery, risking life for the one he loved. Such feelings Bellyn had never encountered much, and she enjoyed watching the scene unfold and the realizations enter her mind. How she wished she could draw the lovers before her, and the beauty of the simplest moment.

[mark12_30]

Nethwador paced his tall chestnut wanderer half a length behind Amroth, and watched the elf-king. A smile played about the king's lips; a fire gleamed in his eyes. Betimes he laughed, betimes he sang.

Echo seemed to burn with a smiliar purpose, for his ears were straight ahead, his nostrils wide, his eyes bright. Anon he nickered or neighed, or tossed his head and snorted; but ever his stride stretched southeast.

Nethwador knew the fire that burned in the horse, for sometimes it burned in him too; sometimes he could see the King's lady, glimmering, glistening, and as desirable as a joy long lost. He wondered when he met her, if he would fall in love with her too, helplessly, hopelessly.

But no; that place, he thought suddenly, was held in his own heart by lady Bella. He looked over his shoulder to see where she was, and puzzled; they had fallen far behind-- no, they had stopped.

Torn, he looked from the elves to the men; from Amroth to lady Bella. The distance grew. He hesitated. The red wanderer slowed, one ear forward, one back. With each glance over his shoulder, lady Bella receeded from sight.

Guiding the red wanderer iin a wide arc, he turned to ride back to lady Bella; but now his glance strayed to Amroth and Erebemlin. Sworn friendship! Lady Bella had no oath from him; Amroth did.

Gruff thoughts pressed in on his. He will not be angry, Erebemlin assured him.

The rangy red chestnut checked again. Frowning and half cursing, Nethwador turned him in another wide arc to go back the way he had come. Maybe Amroth will not be angry. But he would have a right to be, after all he has done. I will not be proven faithless even for an hour.

Face twisting and twitching in mixed resentment and determination, Nethwador's temper bested him and he lashed his horse with his reins; the burst of speed brought him nearly back to his lord. With a backward glance, Amroth and Erebemlin slowed. By the time he caught up to them, Nethwador felt bad for leaving Amroth, anxious over lady Bella, and anguished that he had needlessly struck his horse.

Amroth knew it, and looked back.

"Once again, I grow careless of my friends and companions. Erebemlin, any king would be disgraced showing such carelessness over his subjects! Let us return."

Now the three riders turned in a wide arc, and rode back to the men. Before long the could see the group of riders, and the two on the ground in their midst.

[Imladris]

Of course Mellonin was in a fine cold rage when she stalked back towards the group. Aeron smirked at her. Whatever Ravion had said (and he hoped it had been mean) had gotten her in a worse mood.

Raefindan (drat him) had turned over and was soon quietly snoring. Gwyllion had no intention of going to bed and Aeron caught the warning she flicked his way. She probably wouldn't go to bed leaving him and Mellonin up and risk the chance they'd tear each other's throats out. Not that she'd be much use anyway as she'd faint at the blood. Aeron stifled the chuckle.

Mellonin stiffly went to the ground and glared into the flames. Aeron saw a loose pebble and began to toss them at her. She really was not that attentive as she did not seem to register the flying pebbles. Of course, the fact that he was deliberately aiming wide of her nasty little nose made her inattention somewhat excuseable. On the tenth throw, the pebble landed neatly in his lap. Drat. It was a blasted shame that he had lost his nerve and had aimed for her lap instead of her nose...

[Nurumaiel]

Argeleafa stared down at Ædegard with mixed feelings. As she gazed into his face she knew she loved him, but she did not know if she should marry him. She thought of Liornung's words, and his deep desire to have her marry Ædegard. Her eyes raised slowly, and she looked at the young fiddler. He sat atop his steed, his arms folded and his lips turned up in a smug smile as he gazed down at them. And she could not help but laugh.

"Ædegard, there is nothing in all Rohan and in all Middle-Earth I desire more than to wed you," she said, returning her gaze to him, "and so I tell you yes, I give you my heart with joy, and I will marry you. But understand I must seek my father's blessing first, for his sake and the sake of my mother. Yet even if they will not give me their blessing I will still marry you, and seek Liornung's blessing, who has been as a father to me when my own father left his home and people." And then she could speak no longer, for tears rose into her eyes and she wept with joy.

[littlemanpoet]

The moment the words were out of his mouth and quiet surrounded them, Ædegard felt his heart leap to his throat. What had he just done? What if she said no? What if she laughed in his face? He swallowed, suddenly more afraid than he had ever been in his life.

Then she gave him her answer. His heart lifted. He could feel his smile grow so on his face that he thought it could crack, but he did not care. He rose to his feet as she wept for joy, and took her in his arms, lifting her feet from the ground as her tears mixed with his hair for the first time. He had never been happier.

He let her down and pulled her away, and their eyes met. "Leafa, love, you are as the willow's leaf in spring this day, fair and weeping, slim and a joy to behold. Let us seal our troth with a kiss."

Her eyes were pools of blue and white, catching the rising sun's rays and making them shine as bright as ever. They closed as she formed her lips, and he closed his eyes. They kissed. His heart exploded. The world could never be dim again.

He then removed a necklace from around his neck, that he had from his mother, and placed it around Leafa's neck. It bore a flat green stone on which reared a white horse. "This is an heirloom from my mother's family. I give it to you in plight of our troth."

She picked it up in her hand and stared at it, then met his eyes again. "It is beautiful! I will treasure it!"

"And I have wondered for days now how to tell you that I wished to go with you to your father to ask for your hand, and to win him over to returning to Edoras with us, so that he can live with us and thrive there. Do you think he might think well on it?"

[mark12_30]

Pebble after pebble pattered around her; she glared into the fire, willing herself to think about her brother. No quarrels. Quarrels make us lose care, and if I lose care for Mellondu, what then? The pebbles continued; she ignored them. One landed in her lap.

She picked it up and tossed it into the fire.

Mellondu is all that matters. All that matters.

"Aeron, stop that, " said Gwyllion. Mellonin looked up, and nodded at Gwyllion, and then returned to gazing into the fire.

Mellondu never gazed at the fire; he used to, but becoming a blacksmith had changed that; the fire symbolized work and sweat and heat. If he wanted to gaze now, he looked at the sky. Perhaps she should do the same. Pulling up her cloak around herself, she lay down on her side, with her back to Aeron (after thankfully clasping Gwyllion's hand.) Briefly her eyes reflected the stars, but then she fell into a deep slumber.

[Imladris]

As Gwyllion seemed to think that throwing pebbles around Mellonin was not an amusing past time, Aeron stood up and saw that Ravion was staring at Mellonin with a look of confused bafflement on his face. Aeron sniggered.

Kicking at tufts of weeds, Aeron slouched towards Ravion and leaned against a nearby tree. "I hope that you're well pleased with yourself," he said cooly.

Ravion looked surprised. Good .

"So," said Aeron off handedly, "do all rangers steal?"

Ravion whirled around and glared at the boy. Aeron smirked and cocked a brow.

"I was just wondering," he added. "I've been told by many that all thieves are liars as well."

He looked significantly at the ranger. His impassive face did not betray whether or not Aeron's jibe had struck home or not.

"See, what I told Mellonin was true," he said softly. "There is no difference between you and I, besides the fact that you have the honourable name of ranger while I have the name of thief and liar and skulking boy."

[Orual]

There was a long moment of silence after Aeron had finished talking. Ravion stared evenly at the boy. Neither moved. Gwyllion turned to watch them, as their silence held more import than any words either of them could have said.

Suddenly Ravion grabbed Aeron by the collar. The Ranger was not much taller than the boy, but was still able to lift him off his feet. "You have pushed me beyond the limits of my patience," he growled. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Gwyllion fetch Mellonin. "I have kept myself from saying anything that I may regret. You may have forgotten, but you are here at my pleasure!"

"Ravion--" Mellonin called, but Ravion raised his free hand to silence her.

"You have pushed and pushed, and I do not know what you expect to receive from it, but I assure you that you do not want me to do what my emotions are telling me to." He threw Aeron, who stumbled but remained on his feet. "Your accusations are wearing thin. I have made my mistakes. I am sorry that you have made some of the same mistakes. Part of making mistakes is atoning, and the end of atoning is forgiveness. Perhaps you were a part of my atonement. I plan to end your role in my atonement."

"Ravion, what do you mean?" Mellonin asked.

Ravion did not answer. He grabbed his bag from off of Gond's saddle, then took the horse's lead and brought him to Mellonin. He took her hand, put the lead in it, and closed her hand around it. "Gond I give to you, in recompense for the help I cannot."

"Ravion, you are being--"

"Irresponsible? Absurd? Probably both." Ravion slung the bag over his shoulder. "And an irresponsible, absurd man should not lead the search for your brother. I leave this errant boy in your care. If he gives you too much worry, send Gond for me. Wherever I am, he will find me, and bring me back."

Ravion went to Raefindan. "Take care of them for me," he said quietly. "I know that you are capable, and that you can take charge in my absence."

He took a few steps away, then turned back. "Farewell. And Mellonin, I wish you the best in finding your brother."

With that, he left.

[Imladris]

Aeron's jaw dropped, and slowly it broadened into a grin. Could he believe his good luck? The ranger was actually leaving. Finally. The ranger that thought he was better than anybody else, purposely breaking the ties that bound them together. But if he thought that he was going to stay with this riffraff, then he was sorely mistaken.

"I think you're forgetting something, Ranger," drawled Aeron, smirking a little. "I vowed to be in your service. If you're releasing me from that vow, then I am not bound to stay with them. Unless," he added softly, "you are changing the terms of agreement?" He arched his brow. "That would, of course, make you a liar."

[littlemanpoet]

Ravion stopped and faced Aeron, his face impassive. "If you must take it so, so be it. Lying is not the worst offense of all my days. You are freed of the vow. Do what you will." He turned again and left them.

Aeron let out a whoop of glee. "Time to go, Gwyllion. Let us be gone from here! Back to Minas Tirith and good thieving!"

This was not good, thought Raefindan. Especially not in the darksome chill of the night. Ravion had made it quite clear why he was leaving, being somehow of the opinion that his leadership of the group was too flawed to continue further. It was absurd.

"I do not want to go," Gwyllion said in a forlorn voice. "I am too tired. I want to sleep."

"Fine, then sleep. We'll leave in the morning." Aeron sat down next to his sister and stared into the fire again.

From what Raefindan knew of other rangers - from what he had read? (he shook his head) - flawed leadership was no reason to quit. Quitting was a worse mistake than any made be persevering, short of betrayal or open murder. It revealed a worse flaw in character than admitting one's mistakes and making the best of bad situations. Quitting meant that Ravion did not really trust in the warp and weft of how the world worked, that a thing might be meant to happen.

And this, too, might be meant to happen, come full circle, for it made quite a few new things thinkable that had not been up until now. Among them were the departure of Aeron and Gwyllion. Another was that Mellonin and he would be free to move on, and perhaps at a quicker pace, unencumbered by the care of Aeron and Gwyllion. On the other hand, not having a Ranger to lead, meant that they were now at the mercy of the trail.

It also meant that Ravion might be free to search for Mellondu on his own, also free of the care of Aeron and Gwyllion, not to mention of Mellonin and himself! Ravion had been chiefly responsible for keeping him alive when he had had pneumonia.

"We shall simply have to not get sick, or lost, or injured, or overly hungry," he mumbled to himself.

"What, Raefindan?" Mellonin asked.

"We shall have to be very careful to stay healthy, and keep our wits about us, doubly hard with both you and I losing sleep from bad dreams." He stood suddenly. "I must catch him and convince him to come back to us. We need him too much." He strode past Mellonin.

"Raefindan, wait!" Mellonin blurted.

It was not in Raefindan to brush off anyone for any reason, no matter how urgent his purpose. His stride faltered and he faced her.

Having his attention, Mellonin's gaze faltered and she looked to the ground. "Let him go. Maybe it is better this way."

"You know it is not."

She threw up her hands and rubbed her forehead as if to massage some useful thought from an overtired mind. "Let him go anyway. Give him time."

Raefindan sighed. Very well then. He walked over to the fire and faced Aeron and Gwyllion. "You two are going back to Minas Tirith in the morning?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Aeron replied.

Raefindan walked back over to Mellonin. "I have no sleep left in me. I slept for a very short while and dreamed badly before Ravion left us. You have had no sleep, but I wager that sleep is not near you either."

"'Tis so," she nodded.

"Then let us leave." She nodded again. Raefindan turned to Aeron and Gwyllion. "Mellonin and I are leaving this place, for sleep is far from us. You must choose now if you will come with us, or stay here and sleep. Maybe you will catch up to us on the morrow, if that is your choice. So are you coming with, or staying here?"

[Imladris]

Gwyllion frowned and rubbed her eyes. This was becoming too confusing. Why was Ravion leaving? What was this about bad dreams?

Apparently they had to leave now -- well, Mellonin and Raefindan had to. Aeron frowned and said, "It's not safe for us to split up. Of course the Ranger," he gestured behind him with a small grin, "is brave and strong so he doesn't need to fear that. Gwyllion wants to sleep --" she shot a grateful smile at him -- "so, we will stay with you the night and go where you will but in the morning we leave straightway for Minas Tirith."

Gwyllion beamed at him. She was glad to go, in a way. All the travelling, all the squabbling was getting a trifle wearisome. Of course she would miss every one, but she could understand why Aeron had wanted to leave. She herself had thought it wrong that Ravion had taken Mellonin's side in the fist fight earlier in the day. And while Aeron did have a sharp tongue for truth, it was not good that Mellonin had attacked him because of it.

"Come along Gwyllion," said Aeron, stooping down.

She clambered onto his back, her legs swinging and murumured, "Thank you Aeron."

[mark12_30]

Well, this certainly solves a host of problems, mused Mellonin as they prepared to march northwest. Gond snorted at her as she tightened his girth, sniffed her as she held his lead, and looked over his shoulder to the southeast.

"We will return you to your master. Have no fear, " she said. She wondered as Gond's nostrils flared and flared, and his huge barrel swelled; then she winced as he let out a thunderous cry. It would have echoed anywhere else. In this desolate swamp the neigh seemed to fall flat. But there was no mistaking the heart behind it.

"Like you, I wish he had not gone, " she said, tugging at him as she turned to follow the others. Raefindan, Aeron, and Gwyllion were ready to go. "But for us, I think it is best that he has gone." Relief flooded her, for a moment, for a while. She need hide from the ranger no longer.

Raefindan knew, of course, but she trusted him like a brother.

Truly? she asked herself, and then gave a feirce nod. He will never replace my own brother. But it is as if I had two; an older, redhaired brother, and a younger dreamer. The thought pleased her, and she accepted it easily, even smiling a little. Raefindan, my adopted brother, and most loyal ally in my search for the younger blood brother. Raefindan will not leave me. It matters not if the others do.

She felt a twinge of guilt at that; little Gwyllion, who seemed so very present sometimes, and so lost at others; clever and simple, crafty and naive, foolish and wise. And she showed very good taste, being fond of Ravion.

It is best that he depart. It is best. We will find Mellondu, somehow, with fewer distractions. He has left us all his supplies; I wonder why he did not take some for himself; but we will find the way. We must. We will not grieve his departure.

I will not grieve his departure.

I will not.

[Orual]

Ravion did not stop or look back until a mile and a half or more was past him. If he did, he was not sure that he would not turn back.

When enough distance was between him and his companions--his former companions--that he felt safe, he sank to the ground and put his head in his hands. Sometimes he wondered if he had any more sense than Gwyllion, or Mellonin's moonstruck brother. He had acted in the heat of the moment, impetuously, without thinking it through. What would they do without him? He was their leader. Perhaps they deserved better than him, but they had no better than him. All they had was him. And he had abandoned them. What an irresponsible child he had been!

He opened his sack and brought out some bread. Unwrapping it, he stared at it. Suddenly there was no more hunger in him. Not for bread, at least. Perhaps for company.

Where was he to go now? He had no horse. He had nothing but the clothes on his back, some food, and a sword. He was alone.

But was he not always alone?

"Your brother?" Ravion asked quietly. Mellonin nodded, swallowing hard and composing herself. "We'll find him. I swear it to you."

He had sworn it.

And now he had left.

He shook his head vigorously. It was too late now. He would not crawl back with his tail between his legs. He could only imagine what Aeron would have to say about that. They would be fine without him, anyway. They would be fine.

Erundil

Erundil and his horse were both weary, but still they continued on. Ravion would be interested in the news he had.

Ravion was always such a strange one. When he was young, freshly accepted as a Ranger, he never had his mind on his training. He was a very capable young man, but it took a patient teacher to train the boy to focus. And sometimes, Erundil wondered if the way he had been forced to sit down and learn had not broken some of the sense of wonder in the boy. Although Erundil and Ravion had not seen each other in a long enough, he knew that the man the boy had grown to be was somber and lacking in much cheer: very different from the boy that Erundil had known.

As the night was coming on, he saw in the distance a small group of people walking slowly. One of them, a young woman, led a horse. Was that Gond? He looked more closely. It was Gond. But where was Ravion?

He approached them slowly from behind, then dismounted and cleared his throat loudly. All of the company turned, startled. "I see a horse without its rider," Erundil said quietly. "And its rider I know. I must ask, where is Ravion? Where is Gond's rider?"

[mark12_30]

Mellonin stepped forward. "Greetings. You are a friend of Ravion? Judging by how well you know his horse, you must know him well indeed. He has departed for Minas Tirith, or so I believe."

Mellonin studied the ranger, and thought it odd that he also studied her. Indeed, as she wondered what he could tell her about Ravion, he slowly approached her, staring.

"He left his horse with you, and returned to the city? On what errand?"

Mellonin shrugged, and her voice cracked slightly. "None that I know of, except perhaps seeking solitude. If he find it he will do well."

"Solitude."

"I fear we were too annoying for him," she said, and then stopped. Why am I prattling? What if he is Ravion's friend? All the more reason to send him on. She bit her lip, and then wished she hadn't.

"When you find him, give him our regards." Idiot. Why would he want your regards? Why would he care that you even thought to send a message? "Tell him we will return Gond to him as soon as we may, and that he need not concern himself with... with our... with us." Fool, fool, fool. Stop prattling!

Raefindan interrupted. "Unless he wants to concern himself with us."

Mellonin shot him a look full of daggers. Aeron was smirking, Gwyllion was studying the new ranger with the same awe she had felt for Ravion, and Raefindan was thinking hard. She glared at him again.

Gond stamped, and nickered at the Ranger.

[Imladris]

Not another blasted ranger! Did they never stop coming? Who cared where Ravion went? Honestly, the man was better left alone. He was very unpleasant to be around and he lied. Aeron narrowed his eyes. Whoever was friends with Ravion was up to no good.

Why did Gwyllion like rangers? Probably because she was disillusioned about their true natures. She must view them as some kind of man that was above her, when, in fact, they really weren't. Aeron wondered if he should point out that Ravion was not this man that she thought he was. He toyed with the thought a little, wondering if he should tell her or not. It wasn't good when one hled another up above themselves. He bit his lip. It didn't matter, really. They'd probably never meet Ravion again any way.

Well, Mellonin didn't seem too upset that the ranger had left, so he was surprised when she saw the daggersome look she shot at Raefindan when he had suggested the possibility that Ravion, was indeed, interested in their fate. Why the statement displeased her so, Aeron neither knew nor cared. He was just pleased that she had suffered some jibe.

[littlemanpoet]

The ranger narrowed his eyes. "What did you do to annoy Ravion?"

Raefindan stepped forward. "My friend presents herself in a harsher light than she should." Mellonin's eyes widened in anger and she gritted her teeth. Raefindan pressed on. "I am Raefindan, and Ravion left the leadership for this group in my hands. It would have been better for him to stay with us, for he would make the best leader of us."

The ranger interrupted. "Then why did he leave?"

Raefindan met the ranger's eyes. "Because he thinks that he has failed us."

The ranger looked at Raefindan askew, as if he was trying to determine if the red headed man was to be trusted. "Why does he believe that?"

"He accused himself of being irresponsible and absurd."

The ranger shook his head. "Eerie spun sable?"

"Forgive me," Raefindan smiled. "I meant to say that Ravion accused himself of being faithless and a fool. He is too hard on himself."

The ranger's brows raised. "Now he begins to sound more like the Ravion I know. How long ago did you part? What way did he go? I shall track him and speak with him about these matters."

Raefindan answered his questions and pointed back down the path. The ranger took a step and stopped, regarding them sternly. "Mind you, I am able to track you wherever you go, and I think you will not get far very fast, so be sure that if I learn you have spoken lies, I will find you and take Gond, and bring you to justice."

"We do not fear that, for we do not lie," Raefindan said calmly.

[littlemanpoet]

"And I have wondered for days now how to tell you that I wished to go with you to your father to ask for your hand, and to win him over to returning to Edoras with us, so that he can live with us and thrive there. Do you think he might think well on it?"

Leafa did not answer at once. Ædegard looked into her eyes hopefully, and she did not look away but returned his gaze. At last she said, "I do not know. But it would give me joy to ride with you to my father and ask him."

"When this quest is over, we shall do that. Now we must not delay the others any longer." They kissed again, only quickly this time, and he walked Leafa to her horse and helped her up, then mounted his own again. The humans urged their horses to a gallop, and soon had caught up to the Elves and Amroth. Bella was irrepressible.

"Amroth! Amroth! Ædegard and Leafa are to be married!"

Amroth and the Elves turned in wonder. "What knews is this?" Amroth asked.

"It is true! Ædegard just sued for her hand in marriage, and she has given him her hand!"

Amroth looked at the two who had become betrothed with a faint smile on his face. They had ridden up behind Bella and were now holding hands across the space between their horses, beaming.

"I wish you good health and a long life together, Ædegard and Leafa."

"Thank you, Amroth," they said almost in unison

Nethador had been watching all that had taken place between the two betrothed, his eyes darting to Bella time and again. He rode up to Amroth and stared at him. Ædegard had seen him do this before, and it always seemed as if the boy came away from these stare downs calmed or quieted, while Amroth was afterward seen to smile, as though relieved from the hardship of his dreams. This time Amroth laughed.

"Yes, Nethador, it was sudden! Two days? Four? But they are both Rohirrim and their minds and bodies are much alike. You are not so lucky. Give it more time."

Nethador glanced at Bella and hung his head. Bella heard, and saw, and turned crimson. She quickly turned her horse away and stared off at the western horizon as if something there was of keen interest. Ædegard saw nothing and wondered what she saw.

Liornung laughed aloud and began singing one of his songs. Amroth urged the party to continue south. Between then and the sun's height, they covered much ground.

[Orual]

Ravion had departed for Minas Tirith? Erundil placed his hand on Gond's withers. So the man was still a boy after all.

"You were...too annoying?" Erundil echoed. The young lady nodded. "He was, then, your leader."

"So say some," the boy said caustically. Erundil turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

"Clearly Ravion was not in your books," Erundil said with a wry smile. The boy snorted in reply.

Erundil turned away and leaned his forehead against Gond's. Why would Ravion have left? It was unlike him, even in his most impassioned moments, to abandon a mission. If nothing else, the boy was stubborn. What had driven him off? It would take a real desperation.

He looked at the company that Ravion had abandoned. "This is odd behavior for Ravion. Are you quite sure that he was all right? It is not like him to have run off. If for nothing but his fool pride, he would have stayed the course. Was he quite well?"

The company looked to each other. "I am concerned for Ravion," said the Ranger. "I am Erundil, a friend of his of old. I helped train him. I cannot help but think that something is not right."

[mark12_30]

"I helped train him." As a flush crept from her throat to her face, she cringed. Something is not right? Ah, ranger, little do you know the truth of what you say. Something has not been right ever since... ever since I began to ... ever since I felt... ...oh, what a fool am I, what an idiot I have become.

The ranger-- this Erundil-- stood beside Gond, whose lead Mellonin still held. Erundil seemed more comfortable with Gond than any of them. And in coming in between Mellonin and Gond, Erundil seemed to come between Mellonin and Ravion. Suddenly, deeply, Mellonin resented that. Her face was now quite red.

Yet now that the ranger had asked a question, she found nothing to say. Once again biting her lip, she turned to Raefindan.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

As the group reveled in the sudden promise of two lives intertwining, some unknown anxiety also called them to drift onward. Something unsettling, and unspoken, moved them ever forward even as they all basked in the sweetness that had struck between Ædegard and Argeleafa. Bella found it especially wondrous and even confusing, for she had known little of such love and such affection. First thoughts brought hope for the future of the two Rohirrim, who had known each other for such a short time and yet knew one thing for certain – that they were meant to be together. Second thoughts did not come until Amroth’s cheery words rang through the air –

“Yes, Nethador, it was sudden! Two days? Four? But they are both Rohirrim and their minds and bodies are much alike. You are not so lucky. Give it more time.”

Bella could feel the heat and the blood rush to her cheeks in an unstoppable manner as she felt Nethwador’s eyes upon her. Turning her horse in a different direction even as the group trotted onward, Bella gazed into the distance and thought deeply about the strange thing called love. How could love have come so quickly and deeply between Ædegard and Leafa? It seemed as if some spell had overcome them, and Bella wondered if it would let go only after they had wed. If something could come so easily, could it not leave just as swiftly? And what meaning had such a thing, to come and go in such a fleeting manner? Bella could hear all these questions crossing through her mind. Ædegard and Leafa hardly knew each other! Nethwador knew nothing of Bella!

The group rode on, and the late afternoon sun soon began to fall beneath the horizon. Bella lost track of the length they had traveled, and when the last rays of the sun streaked the ground that they treaded Bella urged her horse to catch up with Liornung’s.

“Liornung,” Bella prodded, her voice toned in a way so that only the two of them would hear their conversation. She did not want anyone else to know her contemplations on love. “Liornung, it is all so confusing! Can you make sense of what has happened this day? Love seems to drive this whole journey, the love between Amroth and his Lady…and now love ties Ædegard and Leafa. Amroth’s love is long and tightly woven into a tangled web, but for our friends the line is clearly drawn, and they make it seem simple again. I am lost upon the meaning.”

“I might not be the best person to ask. Maybe you should ask the lovers themselves?” came Liornung’s suggestion, which made Bella frown and knit her brows. Liornung laughed and pointed to Ædegard and Leafa, riding before them with hands interlocked. “However, perhaps you should not look for the meaning of it, because if you asked hundreds of people what love is, you may very well receive hundreds of different answers. But I know this…that love knows not what time is.”

“I shall keep this in mind, and thank you, Liornung!” Bella smiled faintly, still confused but considering Liornung’s last words. Amroth halted before them, dismounting his horse as the Elves and Nethwador followed his lead in quick succession. The sun had long since settled beneath the hills. Amroth and the Elves seemed prepared to allow the more Mannish members of their company get rest.

[mark12_30]

Amroth groomed Echo, his eyes straying sometimes to Ædegard and Argeleafa, and sometimes to Nethwador, sometimes to Bella. Bella, on the king's request, stood nearby, and softly sang for Amroth. Liornung joined her, softly humming, while he watched the king. Amroth's eyes shone with joy as he wrapped himself in his cloak and lay down. Bella's song trailed off, and Amroth smiled at her. "Lady Bella, many thanks." Nethwador and Erebemlin came to Amroth's side, and Amroth nodded at his companions; his eyes gleamed.

"Have a care, my lord, " said Erebemlin.

"Fear me not. I will heed your summons as I have in the past. Only do not call me too soon, " Amroth said.

Erebemlin nodded.

Amroth laughed, and pulled his cloak tighter around him. "I am too eager! How shall I sleep? Sing over me, friend. I must waste no time: I grudge every moment!"

Erebemlin reached for Amroth's brow, and his song mingled with the starlight and both melded in to Amroth's dreams. They were suprised to see him gasp. Erebemlin leaned closer, looking startled.

"Beloved, come; I am here, I am here! The waiting is over, it is over!"

He thought his heart would break; he kissed her, and buried his face in her golden hair, clinging to her. She whispered to him, and he shed tears even as he laughed for joy. He held her closer, tighter; he kissed her again.

[mark12_30]

Taitheneb was approaching the three-- Nethwador, Erebemlin and the dreaming king-- when Erebemlin withdrew his hand from the king's forehead. Raising a fist to his lips, he hesitated, stood, and turned away. Nethwador looked from the king to the elf, and spoke in his strange tongue; the elf shook his head. Nethwador stood.

Taitheneb slowed. "Is all well? The king smiles; of what does he dream?"

Nethwador spoke urgently again, and Taitheneb opened his mind to the boy. Erebemlin had forgotten him. Nethwador was torn by the king's smile and the elf's withdrawal.

Erebemlin shook his head. "He deems she is found. His joy is very great."

Joy filled Taitheneb's eyes and spread to his smile. "Where is she? Erebemlin, find out where she is! We shall go to her, and all will be well! Erebemlin, go back to the king! Why tarry?"

Erebemlin began to pace. "I do not know. I-- it is -- "

"Silmaethor, we must find where she is. Come, we must not miss this chance, if chance it is. Silmaethor, why do you delay? Will the king not be angry if we fail him thus? His joy will turn to grief should he lose her again!"

Erebemlin spun, and his brow was knit in uncertainty, his eyes gleamed with fear. "I do not-- Taitheneb, this is most strange. I do not trust this dream! And yet his joy is so strong, how shall I diminish his hope? I fear his hope is false. I fear this dream is false!"

Taitheneb studied his commander. "What shall we do?"

"I do not know. I fear to watch over him, now, with his joy so great. Would you not be angry if I watched your dreams?"

"Yes," Taitheneb said, and hesitated. "Yet I know my beloved is safe in Valinor. I have no fears for her safety; I have not asked you for aid in seeking her. Would you thus fail me if I had?"

"Fail...?" Erebemlin echoed, eyes widening. After a moment's hesitation he spun back to his king who now lay very still. Diving into the king's dreams, he cautiously looked around.

"My lord, where is she?"

The king did not answer.

[mark12_30]

The silence echoed. Nethwador and Taitheneb watched as Erebemlin searched for any sign of Nimrodel.

"My lord?"

Tall and golden-haired, the king stood beside Erebemlin, silent, disbelieving. Erebemlin's fears deepened.

"Amroth," said Nethwador. "Where did she go? What happened to her? Why did she leave?" The boy would not be stilled. "Amroth, where is she? What went wrong? Why is your dream empty now?"

The king raised one hand to Nethwador, and stood silent, searching the horizon. They waited. Disbelief and sorrow washed over them in waves. Nethwador tried again. "Amroth. Amroth?"

The king shut his eyes and spoke in measured tones. "She has closed her mind, " he said. "She has turned from me."

Erebemlin and Taitheneb waited, afraid to ask why. Nethwador knew no such fear. "Why would she do that?"

"Because, " replied the king, "she has been grieved by me for so long; so many years."

"I thought she was glad to see you. I thought she said the wait was over!"

The king nodded. "She did. At first our joy was great. But then she said that she would wake; that it is always the same; she dreams with great hope, but wakens alone and heartbroken. This time, she said, she would wait and grieve no longer; that I had grieved her for the last time, and that I would not deceive her again."

The elves waited with dread. Nethwador shook his head. "What does that mean?"

Amroth was silent.

Nethwador asked again. "What did she say? What then?"

Amroth's face grew stern as steel; his eyes were cold, his voice even. "She said nothing. But I know that she went to another."

"What!"

"Yes. As if she had come to it after long searching, and had at last made up her mind. Nethwador, she went from the grief I have given her to find refuge in another."

"She would not do that. She could not! It is wrong! She promised. She promised!"

"Yes, Nethwador. She promised."

"Then she can not do this! She must not! We must not let her!"

Amroth turned to Nethwador and looked him in the eye. "Little brother, how shall I change her decision? How shall I claim her promise? She has closed her mind and her heart to me because I have failed her. What can I do?"

The dream-landscape faded, and the three friends looked up to see welcome stars. Amroth's eyes opened, and he slowly sat up, and looked around.

On the southern side of the camp, the mannish folk slept. Amroth looked from them to Nethwador, and shook his head. "Let them rest. " But he stood, and slowly paced out of the circle of firelight, and spent the night wandering a broad circle under the glittering stars.

[alaklondewen]

The elves lay outstretched on their backs, both looking to the stars in their own thoughts of dreams, Amroth and his lady, and what it all meant. Taitheneb rose to his elbows and watched the king saunter off on his own beyond the fire light. “You should go to him, Silmaethor.”

“Nay, mellon. He is feeling a great emptiness that I cannot fill.” Erebemlin was deeply concerned about Amroth, and he still couldn’t shake the feeling that his dreams this night were not real. If the elf’s instincts were true, many questions would need to be raised. What, or who, would cause Amroth to dream this way? Was this dream weaver linked to the fleeting mind they crossed the night before? Could another elf be involved? Erebemlin knew naught of misguided elves living in the region. Only a being with a certain degree of power would be able to create and fill the king’s head with such powerful dreams to cause delight and then pain. Erebemlin kept these thoughts to himself…he would speak with Amroth about his suspicion once they were on the road.

Taitheneb trusted Erebemlin and knew the Silmaethor would do what was best, and so the younger elf let his mind wonder until it hovered over the humans, still resting in the wee morning hours. He smiled as he thought of the promise made between young Ædegard and Argeleafa. It is wonderful the way love has found its way within our camp. Taitheneb opened his mind to Erebemlin who still gazed at the bright stars.

If you are speaking of the betrothed, I see only another example of Man’s poor judgment and hurried actions. Taitheneb began to object, but Erebemlin continued. Those two have only known of one another for a matter of days. They know nothing of each other, and I believe, nothing of love. It will not last.

Taitheneb was grieved to hear Erebemlin’s cold words. He agreed their decision came surprisingly quick, but that did not mean it would not last.

You disagree with me, I see. Mellon, you pay too much heed to the humans. They will not be here long enough for us to spend energy thinking about their every move.

Taitheneb’s eyes flashed. You’re words are harsh, Silmaethor. These people are our companions, and I believe they are here for a purpose as you and I are. What the younger elf would have liked to have said was if Erebemlin had every loved another being beyond his duty, he would understand how wonderful the actions of the young couple were. Taitheneb kept this to himself, and rightly so, that kind of remark would only breed hard feelings and turmoil between the elves. They were comrades, and Taitheneb cared very deeply for Erebemlin, but he did wish for more for the elder.

I am sorry my words are difficult to hear, Taitheneb. Come let us put this aside and begin preparations for the day’s journey.

[littlemanpoet]

Amroth believed the dream, but the other Elf doubted it. Tharonwe would have to be careful. They were closer now than ever, and that could be no coincidence. The humans were of course much easier to manipulate. Even the ranger, who did not know he dreamed, for he was forgetful of them, had been nudged toward a weakening of the little hunting party. But another ranger had come. So many people in or near his swamp, all at a sudden. How odd. If Amroth searched in dream again, it would be necessary to block his way with an illusory dream, or he would win through to Nimrodel. That must not happen! But Tharonwe knew that his game was more dangerous than ever. He would need to avoid capture.

He stopped in his thought, sitting in his cave, watching his oven make swamp lembas. It was of course not nearly as good as that which could be had in Lothlorien the Fair, but Tharonwe made do as he had to.

He had stopped in his thought because he could think of no reason to avoid capture. Much use could be made of it, were it to occur. Not that he would look for it. If they passed him, he would have to track them and splay their dreams. And that would lead inevitably to their awareness of him, unless he killed them first. It was an option he had not considered before. Kill or be captured. He stared into his oven.

[Orual]

The stars were above Ravion as he lay on his back, staring up at the cascading waves of sky, the wisps of clouds, and the faces of his friends.

The silence seemed more profound for want of Aeron's babbling. The fire seemed to warm him less in the absence of the heat of his companions' bodies. The stars seemed all the dimmer without the light of Mellonin's eyes...

He tore himself from that line of thought. No use thinking about that. He drew long, even breaths and forced himself to clear his mind of such ideas. How could he concentrate on the next leg of his journey while his mind was still with his abandoned company, with Mellonin?

He did not even know what the next leg of his journey was going to be. He could go back to Minas Tirith...he could go up north again, searching for orcs...he could try to find Mellonin's brother...

That thought startled him. Why had it even occurred to him? He had given up that mission. It was the first mission he had ever truly abandoned. He was done with it. He was finished. It was no longer his concern.

So why could he not stop thinking on it?

[Imladris]

Aeron shifted Gwyllion on his back and snorted. "Yes, you're right, Ranger," he said loudly. "There was something not right. His attitude for one." He glowered at Erundil. "He has this annoying habit of lying and, from his own mouth, stealing and that is hardly the way of rangers is it? But, worse than that for I myself have a few of those faults --" he bowed slightly, a grin on his face -- "is that he dared to put himself above me, if you know what I mean. He wasn't fair either," he added, remembering Mellonin and the fight.

Behind him he could hear Gwyllion begin to snore softly. She was getting extremely heavy to hold and he wished that the ranger would just leave and find his ruddy companion. Rangers were always holding people up, not caring whether they had something else to do.

[Orual]

"Lying and stealing," Erundil echoed thoughtfully. The boy nodded. "Lying and...you say he admitted his theft to you?"

"More than once," Aeron said.

"This is grave," the Ranger muttered. The young woman he had spoken to at the beginning watched him closely, her brow furrowed. "Perhaps I was wrong to take my eyes off of him."

"What do you mean?" the red-haired man asked, putting his hand on the young woman's shoulder.

"Ravion, since he lost his father, is prone to...violent shifts of temper. I am afraid that without the supervision I had been giving him, he has come back to the sort of lifestyle he often slips into. Perhaps you have seen him like this? Hunting down the remnants of the war in bitterness, because he feels he was slighted during the war; wearing out his body in fruitless chases and then with drink; wearing out his mind with futility. But if it has come to theft and lies, then it is time he came back to Gondor, and with me."

He stroked Gond's mane absent-mindedly. "Will you help me?"

[Imladris]

Aeron groaned. "You want us to help you find your ranger?" he asked, his eyebrows shoot upwards. "What is this? I thought that rangers were trackers...why do you need our help? We have lives too you know. We don't exist to come at your beck and call."

"It was a request," said the Ranger calmly. "Not an order."

Aeron fell silent. One could not argue with a request...but it still irked him. Why else would two children, a useless woman, and a strange red headed man be journeying through the wilderness unless they had a quest to complete. But no matter. Gwyllion and he didn't have to go along help this ranger. They'd stick together until day break and then they would go back to Gondor. Hopefully the blasted merchant wouldn't still be trailing them...

[mark12_30]

Raefindan held Mellonin's eyes, and thoughts raced through her mind.

Go crawling back to him? Stir all that madness back into the seething pot? I have just begun to ... to... I am free now. I have no desire to.... we don't need him. We don't.

Raefindan spoke. "You know we'll be luckless without him."

She snorted and gestured at Aeron. "Luck?"

Raefindan watched her evenly. "That's not what I mean. We can't track a two-week-old trail, and you know it. And we owe him this. He has saved each of us from death. If this ranger is concerned about Ravion, how can we discount our debt to him?"

"He released us from that debt. He released us from everything, " Mellonin retorted. I was glad to be freed. Do not push me into that snare again.

Raefindan stepped closer to her and dropped his voice to a whisper; the others looked away, save Aeron, but he did not hear Raefindan's words. "In your heart, were you glad of that release?"

Mellonin 's lips tightened. "My heart is fixed on seeking my brother, " she whispered back.

"For that we need a ranger, do we not?" Raefindan persisted. "And what other ranger would you choose?"

She stared at him for a long silence. This redheaded brother does not bend like my own younger brother. How I miss my Mellondu. How I wish he were here, and I would care not one whit for Ranger nor thief. Oh, Mellondu, where are you? Why have you not come home? If I must track you, then Raefindan speaks truly.

She turned to Erundil with a shrug. "As you wish. We will seek the departed ranger."

[Orual]

"We will seek the departed ranger."

Erundil nodded sharply, as though it was obvious that they would. "Then we should start off. There is no telling how far he has gotten--even without a horse, he makes excellent time; this is especially true if he suspects he is being pursued."

"You speak like he has been a fugitive," the young lady said suspiciously. Erundil glanced at her. Her face was set, but there seemed to be a struggle behind her brave front. The Ranger wondered briefly what it was about discussion of Ravion that made her so uncomfortable.

"He is a fugitive only in his own mind," Erundil said, "but always a fugitive there. He blames himself for his father's death. He blames himself for his orders during the war, for not being at the front lines. I fear for his safety if he has had another one of his...spells."

"Spells?" the red-haired man echoed, looking anxious.

Erundil took a breath to respond, then shook his head. "It is not your concern. I will see to Ravion, and I will bring him back to Gondor. He should not be out on his own. You will not be burdened with him again, I promise you."

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan gestured to the ranger Erundil to lead the way, saying as he did so that they would willingly follow him, since he was the most likely to find Ravion. He asked Mellonin to follow Erundil, leading Gond as she did so. She agreed to with a curt nod of her head.

Since Aeron and Gwyllion were no longer officially members of their party, Raefindan felt that it was not his place to make a request of them as to what place in line they should hold to, so he let them decide. Aeron chose to take up the rear, Gwyllion with him. Jorje made it quite clear that he had every intention to dog Raefindan's steps.

They set off. It was a new direction, not the way they had come, even though it was the only way Raefindan knew to Minas Tirith. He assumed there must be another way. He was glad of it, for all that, for it meant walking wide of the home of the swamp elf.

They walked for an hour, slowly, for Erundil got down on hands and knees often, to make sure of his trail, saying that Ravion's skill as a ranger was making it harder for Erundil to track him.

Once, when this happened, Raefindan glanced behind him and saw Aeron, but not Gwyllion.

"Aeron," said he, "where is your sister?"

Aeron looked about him, dumbfounded. "I do not know. She was walking with me just minutes ago!" He made a face. "Well, behind me minutes ago. I think."

Raefindan turned to face the ranger. "Erundil! We have lost a member of our party!"

"Make that two, for Ravion's trail has confounded me in the dark. I may as well see to this other lost one." He stopped near Aeron. "When was she last seen?"

"We do not know," Raefindan said.

"Stay here while I test the trail behind us," Erundil said.

Worse and worse. They really did need Ravion, and this pointed it up as clearly as anything. Ravion would have forced his will on Aeron, no matter how difficult that proved to be, and would have made sure to keep track of all of them. Just over an hour under his leadership and their youngest and most helpless member was gone, drowned in a murky bog, for all he knew. Jorje had not even nosed or heard her disappearance.

Raefindan looked to Mellonin. "We needed Ravion. Such as this would not have happened with him."

"Do not blame yourself, Raefindan. This breaking of the fellowship has riven our group into aimless factions and it was Ravion who caused that."

Gond snorted, whether in annoyance at Mellonin's blame or something else, Raefindan did not care to guess. He shrugged in response to her well argued point, and looked back down the path, trying to peer beyond Aeron, to see if he could make out Erundil's hoped for return. He knelt down and scratched Jorje's ears. Jorje sniffed at his other hand, and whimpered. Gond snorted again. Maybe the horse could tell that something was a miss in their group. Raefindan heard sniffles and whimpers behind him. Mellonin crying again. He could imagine why. She liked her privacy in such moments, so he kept his face toward the path they had walked.

Gond snorted again, seeming more disturbed this time, and moved a few steps. It was dangerous in this swamp to move a horse in the dark, path or no path, especially without a ranger to lead them. Mellonin had stopped crying, so Raefindan felt it was seemly to ask her to keep the horse still. He turned to speak, but she was not holding Gond. She was not there.

"Mellonin?" The horse looked back to him. Jorje trotted forward and sniffed the ground where Mellonin had been standing, then sniffed the air, whining.

"Mellonin!" Raefindan sighed. "Just great."

"What is wrong?" Aeron said.

"Mellonin is missing too."

If Aeron had had a ready quip to comment on the good fortune of Mellonin being gone, it died on his lips. Instead he turned and called out his sister's name, fear and panic in his voice. Raefindan called Mellonin's name again.

"What is wrong?" Erundil asked, hurrying back to them. Raefindan gave him the news.

Erundil nodded. "I have found the place where this one's sister was last with us. I cannot make out the cause of her loss in this dark, though I checked the waters around that place carefully enough, and I do not think she merely stumbled into a bog. Have you enemies?"

Raefindan's heart went suddenly cold, and he watched Aeron's eyes go wide.

"The swamp elf!"

"Tell me of him," Erundil said.

Raefindan related his own experiences, but did not mention his dreams, even though he suspected the swamp elf regarding them. When he was finished, the ranger nodded.

"We should remain where we are, facing each other, until dawn. Do not sleep!"

[Imladris]

Aeron listened carefully to Raefindan tell of the swamp elf. How rudely the swamp elf had treated him, of his and Ravion's part in rescuing him (a broad grin of pride broadened his face), and finally his suspicion that the swamp elf had captured Gwyllion and Mellonin.

"But why?" Aeron blurted angrily, his hands balled in fists. "Why would he capture Gwyllion?" He ran his fingers through his tangled hair. "Why would an elf do that anyway," he snarled, pacing. "I thought they were supposed to be good and gracious and full of light and goodness," he added in a mocking high pitched voice. "Or do they turn out to be just like our 'good' rangers?" he added, glaring at Ravion's friend.

He breathed heavily. What would the elf do to her? He never should have put her down...never should have woken her up. He should have held her like he had been doing. If they hadn't been delayed, if they hadn't listened to that dratted ranger...

Don't talk about the ifs.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Stupid Aeron not holding me, Gwyllion thought resentfully as she plodded behind him. She wasn't that heavy...he could have held her until they found Ravion. But no, he had to be all pushy and mean.

She rolled her eyes and sent him daggers with her glare. She dropped her eyes. She was too tired to make sure that he felt the piercings in his neck. Sleep wrapped her arms around her...fogged her brain with her whispers.

Dreams -- frightening dreams. She was underwater...she was drowning. A great tentatacled monster drifted closer. His snake like arms clutched her, grabbed at her. Poison rushed through her veins...she was dying...

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan smiled at Aeron's protests and questions as he hunkered down beside Jorje, whose right flop ear perked up as he sniffed the menacing air.

"Let us be fair to Master Erundil, who has shown nothing but honor so far. And he has told us some of why Ravion may have proven less able a leader than we thought, and that is a good deed. Come, sit with us and watch."

Erundil secured Gond's reins and walked the horse over to the other side of Raefindan from Jorje.

Reluctantly, Aeron shuffled over and knelt next to Jorje. "I would rather be looking than sitting," he said.

"I would the same," Raefindan replied, "but it is no use in the dark. Let us bear each other-"

There was a sudden thud, and Gond rose on his rear hoofs with a scream. Erundil stood, holding onto the reins tightly. Raefindan and Jorje stumbled out of Gond's way, which was lucky, for the horse came down on its side. There was an arrow protruding from Gond's neck, near the left shoulder.

"Hold him down!" cried Erundil. "That arrow must come out now!"

"Should we not take cover?" Aeron yelled.

"Where would you go?" Erundil said. "We are in the open all about. The only safe place is under water, and we may end up there yet! Hold steady now!" Erundil grabbed the arrow in one hand, and placed his other on Gond's shoulder for purchase, and pulled.

Suddenly, Erundil and Gond screamed together: an arrow had pierced the ranger's hand and sunk into the horse's shoulder. The ranger switched his free hand to the new arrow and pulled, groaning loudly with the effort.

"Raefindan! Pull the other arrow out! Aeron! Grab a cloth from Gond's saddlebag!" Aeron looked up at the darkness fearfully, then furrowed his brow, and dove for the saddlebag, rummaging through it with quick hands. Raefindan grabbed the arrow still in Gond's neck, and pulled at it with both hands, unwilling to give their tormentor a fresh and easy target.

Erundil bent down and sniffed the wound in his hand, as well as the two on Gond. "Poison! Curse it! The arrows are coming from there!" Erundil pointed beyond where Gond had been standing. "Hide behind the horse!"

But no more arrows flew for the rest of the night. Erundil fought to stay awake, but his breathing became labored, despite Aeron carefully preparing poultices according to the ranger's directions. One was wrapped around Erundil's hand, and two more were laid on Gond, who did not get to his feet.

[Imladris]

Aeron paced the mucky floor of the swamp like a trapped dog, his tangled hair flying into his face, mud splattering onto his baggy trousers. Of all the things to happen so far this was the worst. Drat Ravion for leaving them. If he hadn't left then this wouldn't have happened. His eyes darted across the land scape, searching for Gwyllion.

A snort from the horse and a particularly heavy breath from the other ranger (drat his name -- impossible to remember) caused Aeron to turn on his heal. The ranger's eyes were only half open. What remained to be seen of his eye was glazed and foggy and unfocused. A barely perceptiable grimace flickered around Aeron's mouth.

"I'm going to look for Gwyllion," he said abruptly.

Raefindan rose slowly to his feet. "You can't, Aeron."

Aeron flushed hotly. "And why is that, Red Head? You doubt my courage? You think me a coward like that skulking, lying, thieving Ravion?"

Raefindan sighed and shook his head. "I only doubt your eyes, Aeron," he said slowly. "You do not have the skill of the ranger's in tracking."

"I don't care," Aeron snapped. "I'm going to find my sister. It's not as if he'll be able to find her," he said, gesturing to the ranger. "We have no idea what sort of poison flows within his veins. He could be dying!" Aeron shouted. "So it doesn't really matter when I go look for Gwyllion, does it, because either way he won't be able to help me!"

"We don't know if it's septic yet," said Raefindan quickly.

"What?" asked Aeron irritably. "Use words we can all understand."

A strange expression passed over Raefindan's face, but he said calmly, "We don't know if it's deadly or not. And," he went on before Aeron had a chance to continue his rant, "if you leave us now you'll either be sucked to your death in the swamps or else fall captive to the swamp elf."

"Are you going to try and stop me?" asked Aeron softly, his eyes narrowing. "Just try and do it, why don't you?"

He turned on his heel and began to trot towards the swamp. He had no idea where to start looking...he figured that if he looked under ever scraggling bush, crossed every bog, he'd find her sooner or later.

A heavy weight bored into him, sending him to the ground. Drat him! Aeron flailed wildy, but Raefindan wrapped his arms around him and said, "I can't let you go!"

"Get off me!" Aeron shouted, trying to flip over so that he would be in a suitable position to pound Raefindan's stomach into a pulp. "Let me go, my sister's out there! I'm not going to sit around watching a ranger sleep when Gwyll could be dying! Let me go!"

[mark12_30]

Water, water, get me out of the water. I cannot breathe. I cannot see. Oh, how I long for air. All is dark. I cannot move; tentacles surround me; their poison sucks the lifeblood from me. All is fading, and yet I cling to life.

She clawed at her knife-sheath, but could not reach it; the tentacles held her arm pinned to her side. She twisted, left, right, to no avail.

Ravion could have saved you, and you let him leave. You are a fool. And now you will drown, and will he ever even know? And with you gone, what will become of your brother? Your parents will pine, and die.

The cold slowly seeped into her heart. My parents. I cannot bear their sorrow. How they will weep.

She strained against the tentacles, but they held her fast.

I must breathe. Why do I die not? There is no breath to be found.

[Imladris]

In the dark waters, Gwyllion tried to push the tentacles away, but she could not. Just as she could not push away the nightmares that whispered in her ear of death and sorrow. She opened her mouth to scream, remembering too late that she was under water and if she screamed she would surely drown. To her surprise, no voice echoed blurrily in the depths. She was not drowning. She could...breathe. Why could she breath? Was she dead?

She could feel bubbles pelt her skin, and she turned. Aeron was in the water, thrashing as he fought the tentacle that was clinging around his throat. His eyes were shot with blood, his face pallid. His fingers scrabbled at the tentacle, trying to pry it from his throat. His legs churned the water and she could hear his muffled screaming.

"Aeron!" she tried to shout, but she could not move. She could not swim. She was tied, her legs could not work, neither could her arms. She tried to swim towards him frantically. She tore at the ropes that bound her but they would not come undone.

He was dying, and she could not help him.

Her stomach turned to ice as she watched his strugglings grow feebler. Finally, as his eyes glared unseeingly at her, the flame of life snuffed from them, she felt a shriek strangle within her, and all was darkness.

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan hung on as tightly as he could. Holding onto Aeron was like trying to hang onto a triple jointed weasle, but Raefindan had the greater weight and the longer limbs, and was able to keep purchase, and most important, Aeron beneath him. He waited it out while Aeron wriggled and punched and spit. It hurt. Raefindan felt his gore rising, but he hung on. It was too important for them to stay together. Aeron's pounding ceased and his wriggling got more violent. After a few minutes, the wriggling stopped.

"Raefindan, you big oaf, if my sister dies because you're holding me here, I'll make you pay."

"There is nothing you can do to save her until it is light. You can do her no good by going alone in the dark while our enemy knows our every move. I need to have surety that you will stay with me this night. I need you by my side, Aeron, for the sake of us all."

[Orual]

The world was a little hazy, his sight a little filmy, when Erundil woke, but inside his head everything was very clear. He knew exactly where he was. He knew what had happened. He was not at all surprised to see the arrow wound on his hand, or a fight going on above him.

Erundil studied the wound on his hand in a manner that resembled mild interest. His head was swimming and his injured hand was throbbing. He felt his breathing become somewhat laboured. He wondered if the poison was, as the red-haired man--Raefindan?--had put it, 'septic'.

(It also bothered him somewhat, in the state of clarity and calm that the poison had put him in, that he did not know the meaning of the word septic. He considered himself a learned man, and it was rare that a word was brought up in any language of Men or Elves that he did not know.)

He sat up slowly, propping himself up against Gond, whose breathing was slow, but more even than Erundil's. Another brief thought: Ravion would be devestated if his horse was to die. Perhaps he ought to be here.

He listened closely to Raefindan and the boy Aeron, although their voices sounded like they were coming to him from a great distance. Finally he realized that their situation was not good at all, and he tried to speak, but it only came out as a somewhat pitiful noise. Both of the fighters turned to him.

"Speaking may be too much effort for you now, Erundil," Raefindan said gently. Aeron simply glared at him.

"I know," Erundil said. "Gond."

A long pause.

"Gond?" Raefindan urged, still in a kind voice but with an underlying anxiety.

"If Gond can...if Gond can walk, send him after Ravion," Erundil said brokenly, interrupted by ragged breaths. "He will find his...master. He...he always does. If Ravion comes back, perhaps he could...could be of some...of some help."


Ravion

It had been hours, but Ravion had not moved from where he had set up camp.

There were two forces pulling on him, and he knew which path he needed to take, but he could not bring himself to take it. His anger and his pride told him that he was not needed in what he now thought of as Raefindan's company. That way led the same life that he used to live, consisting of nothing but vain chases and overnight stays at taverns where he was looked on with intermingled suspicion, respect, and pity.

His common sense and that sixth sense that had developed around Mellonin told him that not only was he needed in Raefindan's company, but that he needed the members of that company; and what was more, that something was not right. He had left in anger; he was being called back in worry. But how could he go back?

It would take more humility than Ravion thought he had in him. He would have to ask permission to re-enter the company. He would return as the lowest, not the leader. And for some insane reason he worried what Aeron would say. Had he grown so weak that he could not take the criticism and sarcasm of a boy? Was that how far Ravion the Ranger had fallen?

He stood up. Perhaps this was still about his pride after all, perhaps it was still about Aeron, but he had to prove it to himself that he was not such a child that he would run from responsibility at the slightest discomfort, the slightest trouble. He would return. He would ask forgiveness. And maybe he could regain their trust. He took a step forward.

Or maybe not. He stopped.

He shook his head and rubbed his face harshly. This was no time for doubts.

He took another step, and started to retrace his path.

[Nurumaiel]

The soft strains of a fiddle just barely touched upon the ears of those who were awake to listen, and the tune was happy yet sad at the same time. Argeleafa crept to Liornung's side and sat down beside him, listening to the music with a slowly crumbling face, until at last with bowed head she let the tears slide silently down her face. The tune ended at once, but not in an ungainly way, for while it was abrupt the skill of the player made the unexpected end lovely though not complete. 'Little Leafa,' said Liornung, gazing at her in distress, 'why are you weeping? What will Ædegard say if he sees you so unhappy? Lassie, you should be the happiest girl in the land now!'

'I am happy!' she said. 'But, Liornung, I am afraid. I do not know if I chose right to accept Ædegard's offer of marriage. I have known him but a few days. What if it is just a passing care for him, and I do not truly love him?' Liornung said nothing but looked down on her solemnly. 'I am so very unhappy,' she said, and bent her head to weep more.

Still Liornung said nothing, but let her dispose of her overwhelming grief, and when she was calmer her tear-stained face looked up into his, and she said, 'What am I to do?'

'I cannot tell you,' said Liornung.

She gazed at him desperately. 'Shall I wed him when I am uncertain?'

'Of course not,' said he. 'And you will not wed him until our return home. You will have enough time to resolve what your true feelings for him are.' He paused for a moment, studying her, and then he said, 'You know you love him...'

'I do not know! That is where the problem lies.'

He gave her an indulgent, amused smile, yet he said nothing but, 'Dry the tears from your face and go off to bed. You should not be up at this hour.' When she did not move, he added further, 'You may speak to me further in the morning if you choose, yet the best way to resolve your doubts would be to speak with Ædegard. Not about this matter, mind you, but of anything, and to be about him often, and watch him, and listen to what he says. You will decide if you really do love him or not only by looking to him. Not to me, lassie, not to me.' He smiled at her once again, and then he began his tune again. She saw nothing to do but go.

[mark12_30]

Amroth paced in a wide circle round the camp, looking outward with eyes and heart. His eyes saw little of use. He knew it gave him a headache, but he could not forbear straining into the distance from time to time, especially when his heart was weary and his mind confused. He did so now, his brow furowed, his eyes squinting, glittering in the December starlight.

In the camp behind him slept or watched his friends, for whom his love grew daily. THey each acted in turn as an anchor to the heaving ship of his heart, so often aching, now numb with pain just as his mind was numb with confusion. HIs eyes remained outward, but every so often his heart cast back to his friends, and he marveled at them. His heart yanked and wrenched at these chains that held him fast, and yet they did not break or yield, these friends of his. They held fast, through storm and gale.

He paused, shed a few silent tears, then walked on. How he loved them. Erebemlin, Taitheneb, Nethwador; Bella, Argeleafa. Liornung and Ædegard and Finduilas.

Finduilas?

There is no one in the company by that name. Who is she?

He paused, and shook his head as if to clear it, but that only made it ache more. He walked on.

Finduilas? Who was she? Amroth wondered again.

The sister of Fingon.

Amroth tensed, paused again, and closed his eyes. You.

My lord.

Why do you say so? thought Amroth.

Since you rule me, how else am l to address you?

Your sister. Where is she? asked Amroth.

Would that I knew.

I knew not of your sister, replied Amroth.

You did not ask. You spoke of Nimrodel alone.

I meant you no harm, and promised you none. Do you doubt my word? thought Amroth.

I do not. Yet I too am grieved.

Sorrow crossed Amroth's face; perhaps it was fated, yet it saddened him nonetheless. You are not alone, thought Amroth.

That much is certain!

I speak not of myself, friend. Many others were broken by her-- as you will be, thought Amroth.

Let us not speak of that.

"My lord?"

Amroth opened Fingon's eyes, and stared at the tall elf in front of him. "... Ere-- Erebemlin?"

The tall elf trembled. "My lord! Rest. Come, lie down and we will watch over you. You must not weaken now-- not now. "

Taitheneb sprang to his feet, and came running. "Lord Amroth-- "

His words were cut short as his king swayed. Catching him, they bore him back to the campfire. Nethwador was sound asleep near the fire, and they set Amroth down near him. Hastily fetching Amroth's blanket, they wrapped it around the king. Then laying his hand on the king's head, Erebemlin looked up at Taitheneb, and there was fear in his eyes.

"The king is retreating. The man returns."

[littlemanpoet]

The party were breaking their fast. Ædegard looked for Leafa; she was still abed. He wondered if something was wrong, but shrugged and supposed that she needed more sleep.

Nethador sat across from Ædegard, and as he munched, his eyes flicked from Bella to himself, which began to irritate him, like a fly unable to decide which perch it liked better. When they had finished, Nethador came up to him, his face nervous, his hands fidgeting.

"Good morn," Ædegard greeted warily.

Nethador nodded. Then he fell to his knees and assumed a pleading position, not facing Ædegard with it, much to his relief. Nethador pointed to him then to Leafa, who had just sat up, rubbing her pretty eyes. Ædegard frowned, confused. Was the Easterling boy trying to tell him something? The boy put his hand to his mouth and said nonsense, making as if to throw the nonsense into the air with his hand as he spoke. Ædegard shook his head and frowned more deeply. Had the boy gone daft in the night? He only started motioning more wildly, pointing intently at himself, then Leafa, then himself and Bella. He could make no sense of it.

"What are you trying to say, boy? Have you lost your wit in the night?"

Nethador moved his hands more wildly than ever, using the same motions over and over again. Ædegard backed up a few steps, fearing that the boy had come down with some fever in the night, one he was sure he did not want to catch. Finally, the boy threw up his hands in seeming irkedness, and walked away, giving Ædegard an unfriendly look.

Liornung came up to him, strumming on his fiddle, a concerned look on his face. "Why refuse the boy?"

"Refuse him of what?"

Surprise replaced sadness. "You did not know what he asked?"

"I could make no sense of his mumming."

"Ah me," said Liornung. "He was asking you to teach him to speak our speech so that he could propose marriage to Bella. You did not understand that?"

The Easterling boy wanted to learn Common Tongue so that he could propose marriage to the Gondorian lady? It was an offensive thought. Surely the blood of Gondorians and Rohirrim were on the boy's hands, for bloodguilt passed from generation to generation, and no doubt his ancestors had been among those who warred against the West in service to the Dark Lord.

"I will do no such thing!"

"Whyever not, my friend?"

"He is an Easterling! And you should not either."

Liornung looked astounded. "But he is a friend of Amroth, and has proven harmless."

Ædegard shook his head. Some people were forgetting the old true ways. Harmless the boy might seem, but bloodguilt was no easy stain to overcome.

"I have put up with the boy's presence for the sake of Amroth, but I will not befriend him nor aid him in wooing Bella. It is an affront!"

"Amroth accepts him."

"I cannot account for the ways of Elves. They are a mystery. But how is it that you do not know this, Liornung? You are Rohirrim, a man of the west. This boy's ancestors have the blood of Rohan and Gondor on their hands! Such a union of Easterling to Gondorian should not be."

Ædegard walked away from Liornung, who stood as still as a stone, his face a picture of shock and horror. If the minstrel had truly forgotten his roots so much that he could not see what was plain, it was a shame, but not something that Ædegard could do much to change. He went to Leafa, who was standing, watching him approach.

"Good morn, Leafa! How do you fare?"

She did not speak right away. Her brow was low and her mouth worked before she spoke. When she did, his bearings fell away. "How could you be so cruel to the boy?"

For a moment Ædegard could think of nothing to say that he would not regret. Had Leafa too forgotten her roots? Maybe she should not be his wife! Maybe, though, he could fill her need to understand the true, deep ways of the Rohirrim. But how was he to answer her words regarding his supposed cruelty.

"My cruelty to him was nothing compared to the slaughtering ways of his ancestors. He bears bloodguilt for the deaths of many Rohirrim and Gondorians. It would be unjust to help him in his cause."

[mark12_30]

The lanky chestnut's lips twitched as Nethwador groomed him. Nethwador's eyes burned with anger, and his lips were tightly pressed. When he rubbed too hard, the chestnut flinched, but Nethwador hardly noticed. He did not hear Taitheneb approach.

Remember the words of lord Amroth: your horse is red like Echo, and tall, and truly he loves you. Does he have a name?

Nethwador thought, and answered. I call him wanderer. But he has no name in your tongue. You name my horse.


Tall; Halad. Celegoer, swift copper; ... holds to the young one: Beorneth. ....faithful lover, Bor-Melethron.

Taitheneb waited. Do the names fit him?

I will tell you what to name him. Name him, 'Nethwador is only for Bella!'

Would that win her?

Nethwador's eyes flashed and he did not answer, but glared at Ædegard. Taitheneb waited.
The boy stroked the horse's head, and said, "Celegoer Beorneth."

Taitheneb smiled a little. Swift Copper Holds to the Young One. It is a long name for a horse. Perhaps another name would be better.

At first, Nethwador only groomed the chestnut more vigorously. But then he turned to Taitheneb, and his eyes softened. "Beorneth... Bor-Melethron." His eyes flicked toward Bella, and his eyes burned with a softer light now, and with a nod towards Taitheneb, he faced his horse, and groomed him all over again, muttering "Celegoer... Beorneth... Bor-Melethron."

Taitheneb waited a while, then thought, Stay. Dortho. The one who stays with you; i northa Nethwador.

"Dortho... I northa Nethwador..."

[mark12_30]

"Ellon, you were needed here." Erebemlin's voice was like ice.

Taitheneb's eyebrows raised. "Silmaethor, you did not call."

Erebemlin's eyes blazed. "You entwine your heart too much with these mortals, ellon. Your allegiance is with your king!"

Taitheneb's eyes flickered, but he drew himself tall, and bowed slightly. "As you wish, Silmaethor. How is the king?"

Amroth looked up from his breakfast and replied, "I'm a blacksmith named Fingon, my elvish friend. And Amroth is not very well at all."

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Bellyn rolled up her pack, working alone and in silence. She had dreamt a troubling dream the night before, and pondering over the meaning of it kept her dark brows knit in confusion. Before she could finish her task Bellyn was joined by a silent Liornung. The fiddler sat down besides the kneeling Gondorian woman, his eyes lost in deep thought and his face showing a horrified expression.

“Liornung? You are troubled,” Bellyn ventured, daring to speak the obvious. She hoped that only words would comfort him, because she doubted her advice and ability to help the person in which she had always confided with on the journey. Bellyn remained resolved, as always, to do her best and try her hardest to do what she could for those who had been so kind to her, but Liornung’s face seemed grave and it was early in the morning for advice and help.

“I would speak naught of it, at least until I understand it better myself,” Liornung spoke softly, and Bellyn sat down from her kneeling position. If he will not speak to me, perhaps I can take his mind off the dreadful…Bellyn thought, smiling for a moment.

“Well, I have myself in a problem just like yours, then. I had a strange dream last night, very strange indeed,” Bellyn interrupted the silence, folding her hands in her lap. She was prepared to recite what she remembered of her dream, even if Liornung would not hear it. Bella still hoped that just speaking with Liornung might help, even if it was not about the matter that bothered Liornung so. “In the dream I was falling through clouds. The clouds were dark grey, and as I fell I tried to grab the clouds but they fell through my fingers. Just when I thought I would plunge to my death…I splashed into the ocean. This did not seem much better, though, because the sea was overcome with waves and stormy skies. I could not breathe, but then someone in a boat saved me, even when the boat was being crushed by the storm. When I looked up, I saw Amroth with a raven-haired lady. Behind him stood everyone of our company! It was rather frightening, I must say.”

“You do have strange dreams, Bella,” Liornung admitted slowly, letting a smile tug at his lips a bit.

“If you do wish to talk of whatever troubles you, I will listen, as I am certain most in our company would listen,” Bellyn murmured, standing from her seat and smoothing the wrinkles in her skirts. Before she could turn or move or finish her light packing, Nethwador approached Bellyn. He moved slowly, lifting his hand and taking Bellyn’s hand in his own outstretched one. Bellyn’s brows furrowed once more, confusion once more in her eyes and face.

“Dortho…” Nethwador began, his face looking nearly as confused as Bellyn’s. “Dortho…dortho…I northa Nethwador.”

Bellyn's hazel eyes widened, her jaw dropped for just a moment. Memories came flooding back. The words...she knew the language that Nethwador spoke. The words of the elves...Bellyn thought. She recocgnized the sounds his voice made. The language that her mother and father knew. Her father had stopped speaking such words when his wife had died, and Bellyn probably knew just a little more than the Easterling before her, only remembering the phrases her mother had spoken or sung in the years past.

Doubting her ability to reply with confidence and Nethwador's ability to understand her words, Bellyn hesitated for a moment, watching Nethwador pause and blink before he repeated them again. His expression made Bellyn's heart drop, and all the phrases and songs she had memorized and all the knowledge of that Elvish language left her for a moment.

"Mellon...mae...mae govannen, mellon..." Bellyn fumbled with the first words she could think of and the first words she could force out of her mouth. Would he even understand? Bellyn doubted and doubted, not just herself or Nethwador, but for a moment she doubted everything around her. "Where did you learn this?" Bellyn knew he would not know her tongue, but her last words were gently and softly spoken as some sort of awkward afterthought.

[Nurumaiel]

Argeleafa gazed at Ædegard for many moments before she spoke, but she felt the tears of last night rising to her eyes again. She could not understand Ædegard's ill-treatment of the poor boy, so in love with Bellyn. Could she marry a man who would not assist others in gaining the longing of their hearts? Would she be left without help at times, when she most desired it?

'Ædegard,' she said at last, the tears forced down but the bitterness of them lingering in her voice, 'what you say is foolish. How can you call this boy guilty, this boy who has done nothing? Why does the guilt pass on to him?'

'The guilt was his ancestors' and it has been passed on to him, Leafa, the same way the glory of our country will be passed on to every child.'

'How can you hold him guilty?' she said again. 'Did you feel no compassion for him when he stood before you, begging you to teach him to speak so he could attempt to gain the love of his life? Did you not love me, Ædegard, when you sat by the fire each night and gazed at me, and at last when you knelt before me and asked me to wed you? Can you feel no sympathy for the boy? If you, Ædegard, sat unable to speak and there was only one to teach you, one who held a grudge against your race though you yourself had done nothing wrong, and because of it this one would not render you a simple service of teaching you to speak so you could have me, would you not weep for that? You say it is unjust!' Her tears overtook her and she dropped her head, brushing at her eyes to fight them away, and then she said again, 'How could you be so cruel to him?'

[littlemanpoet]

It was strange. Aeron had been rather quiet ever since Raefindan's request after he had tackled him. Raefindan had no idea what the boy might be thinking. Most likely about Gwyllion.

Gond had been sent into the dark wilds, tilting leeward as he went, from the poison, no doubt. Erundil slept poorly and had chills. Raefindan and Aeron waited out the night, and at last dawn came. It was a smeary, misty, uncomfortable morning, and cold. Raefindan had placed his outer layer of clothing on Erundil, and had gotten quite chilly himself, though Jorje served as a reasonable hot water bottle.

Hot water bottle. Yet another thing that had no place here. Raefindan thought of pasty colors that had no relation to anything in this world. All here was natural and of the earth, sky, or water. The colors he thought of looked like they had probably oozed from some porous extremity of earthen magma. Jorje made a much better hot water bottle. He had his own generator. Raefindan shook his head. Every thought like this reminded him that he came from another place, that he did not know where he came from, or how it was related to this place, if at all. It was time to be moving. He got up and stretched.

Just then he heard noises from down the path, the way Gond had gone. He looked, and there was a figure leading a horse. Was it the swamp elf? Raefindan got Aeron's attention and warned him with a look. They watched, anxious, expecting to defend themselves. Then they knew the figure. Raefindan let out a sigh and Aeron's mouth turned into a sneer.

Ravion walked quickly up to Erundil and asked what was wrong. Raefindan told him what had passed in the night.

Ravion's face screwed up with a tortured look. "I never should have left."

[Imladris]

Aeron half heartedly flicked the dirt off his skin after Raefindan had let him up. He had not sworn that he would not go after Gwyllion, but it would just figure to drown in a bog himself when he was looking to his save his sister's life. The grim irony of it was too awful to comprehend.

So now they had to wait...and wait...and wait. Where was she...if she had died, Aeron could not forgive Raefindan for holding him back...yet how was he supposed to know if she was dead or not? He could not go looking for her when he could not see, yet if she died it would be because he had not set out immediately. His breathing quickly as he turned the two sides in his mind. It wasn't fair...he could not win. He had to find her.

He snaked a glance at Raefindan, but saw that the red haird man was watching him closely, as though expecting him to dash off into the marshes. Aeron sighed and stared broodingly into the patch of darkness behind Raefindan's shoulder.

There was a soft rustling of grass. Probably just some rodent. Raefindan gestured to him, a frightened look glinting in his eyes. It could be the swamp elf, Aeron suddenly realized as he crouched like a waiting cat in the grass. Just let him come, he thought to himself.

But the looming form that approached was Ravion. A sneer curled about Aeron's lips as he rose to his feet his hands dangling at his sides, his fingers flexing and unflexing.

He had come back, probably expecting shouts of joyous welcome. Maybe even a welcoming embrace. He snorted.

He saw Ravion's face screw up as he said, "I never should have left."

So the idea had just occured to him, had it? "I was wondering when you would get around to noticing that -- or do you just like to repeat the obvious?" Aeron asked loudly. "You should have realized that there was some wild swamp elf on the loose especially after you resuced Raefindan from him! But no. Your pride suffered a little jab and you had to leave. You couldn't stand being brought down a notch or two."

[Orual]

Walking back to the company was an odd experience.

His heart felt light at the decision, but it still felt like he had iron chains around his feet, and he made much more noise walking than he usually did. It was very little like a Ranger, but he did not care. He dragged his feet and he made a lot of noise, and all of it meant that he kept on walking.

He heard a low, mournful neigh, and looked up sharply. He had been so deep in thought that he had not noticed the noise of an injured horse.

"Gond?" he said softly. Gond bobbed his head and turned around. He clearly meant for Ravion to follow him. The Ranger did so, stroking his horse's withers and whispering soft words to him.

As he broke through the foliage, his heart sank. Not only did he fail to see either Mellonin or Gwyllion, but he saw Erundil, his old tutor, injured much like Gond.

Without speaking to either Raefindan or Aeron, he walked to Erundil. "What happened?" he asked quietly. Erundil glanced at him, but said nothing. Perhaps he could not. Raefindan came up to Ravion and put a hand on his shoulder.

The tale that Ravion was told was not encouraging. Every word of it pierced him like a sword, and he bowed his head. It took him a moment before he could speak. "I never should have left," he said quietly.

"I was wondering when you would get around to noticing that -- or do you just like to repeat the obvious?" Ravion looked up at Aeron's sneer. "You should have realized that there was some wild swamp elf on the loose especially after you resuced Raefindan from him! But no. Your pride suffered a little jab and you had to leave. You couldn't stand being brought down a notch or two."

"Certainly not," Ravion said bitterly, but the bitterness was directed at himself, not at Aeron. He took a deep breath, sending sorrowful glances to Aeron and Gond. He dug into one of his horse's saddlebags and took out some herbs. He made from the herbs a quick poultice and put it against Erundil's wound. "All of this is of my making," he added.

"I should say so," Aeron snapped.

Ravion turned to him slowly, a look of deep sorrow and pain in his eyes. Aeron glared at him still. The younger Ranger went up to the boy, knelt on one knee, and, taking the boy's hand in his own, pressed it to his forehead. This was what he had been dreading. "Please," he said quietly, almost inaudibly, "I beg your forgiveness. I have done wrong: no, much, much more than that. I cannot even express it. Aeron, Raefindan, I put myself into your service. I do not know how I can regain your trust, or if I ever can. But I hope that I can be of some use to you. I see that all I have sown here was misery and pain: for you, for Mellonin, Gwyllion, Erundil, for myself." He stood. "I await your command."

[Imladris]

Aeron glared at Ravion. Why was he doing this? He was complicating things by apologizing and having that tortured look etched into his face. He was so angry at him -- it had been his fault that Gwyllion had gone. If he hadn't decided to go off on his own then they would never have had to back track.

Yet....was it really worth the energy to stay angry at him? He was back now. Being angry would not bring Gwyllion back no matter how much of it he launched at the stupid Ranger.

He held out his hand and said, "I suppose I could forgive you..."

He winked at him.

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan smiled to see Ravion kneeling before Aeron, and Aeron's face working through surprise, discomfiture, then acceptance. Ah, life was good.

"I hate to break up the party, my friends, but we have a serious matter on our hands that must be dealt with at once. Ravion, I only accept the lead because you do not. I'll speak no more of it, for now. You are the ranger and the one who knows the most of the healing arts. What can we expect for Gond and Erundil? And what are our chances of finding Mellonin and Gwyllion?"

A cold voice came from over the water. "You have no chance of finding them."

It was the elf, standing on the far side of a pond, beyond the throw of any knife. He had bow and arrow stretched taut, aimed at Raefindan.

"Do not think you can do aught for them, for it is I who have taken and hidden them. They are under my power, and you would do well to remember that."

"They better not be dead!" Aeron shouted in fury.

The arrow's aim switched from Raefindan to Aeron. "They are not dead until I choose. They are more useful to me alive. You will do as I say if you wish to see them again."

"What do you want?" Raefindan asked.

"Go back to Gondor. Leave my lands."

"Lands?" Aeron muttered with a smirk. "He means waters."

Ravion turned to Raefindan. "He does not want us to go north, I think."

Raefindan nodded. "We shall leave your swamp. We've been trying to. We will continue north."

"You will not! Go back to Gondor, or you will receive back only corpses!"

Raefindan thought quickly. It was paramount to save the lives of Mellonin and Gwyllion, despite their quest.

"We will do as you say. But we cannot go until our party is healed from the wounds you have caused."

"They will be well by nightfall. Know that I have worse poisons should you try anything foolish. Get horse and man on their feet and be on your way at once, or one of you shall receive another wound, only this time the poison will kill. Do as I say. At Once!"

"Ravion," said Raefindan, keeping his eye on the elf, "see to Gond. I don't trust this elf, but I don't see any help in inviting an early death. Aeron, help me get Erundil to his feet."

"We should fight!" Aeron said, his face working with rage at the elf.

"I would at the drop of a hat - if I had one - but we must stay alive and see that Gwyllion and Mellonin are brought back to us, safe."

"If he does not lie," Aeron pointed out.

"Yes, that has occurred to me. Our situation is bad. We must trust an elf we know we cannot trust, or die. Give me aid with the ranger."

Aeron frowned with frustration and nodded, and the two got the ranger to his feet.

"You shall go the way your errant ranger was taking," said the elf.

"I think he means me," Ravion said ruefully.

"Ravion, you lead with Gond," Raefindan said. "We will follow."

They marched down the path as it wound through the swamp. The sun reached its zenith and they stopped to eat. When they were done, Aeron spoke his mind.

"That elf is gone. Let us go look for them!"

An arrow skewered the wet earth within inches of Aeron's hand.

"I think your answer is given," said Raefindan.

They marched all afternoon, and darkness fell. Erundil and Gond had improved. They set up camp in the driest spot they could find, slept the night, fitfully, without a watch, for Raefindan concluded that they were under as careful a watch as could be had.

The sun rose, and Erundil and Gond were well again, though Erundil was pale. They broke their fast and marched on, sure that an elf was not far away, an arrow trained on them at all times. The long day past without incident, and night came on again, still with no end to the swamp. But Ravion assured them that they were at least headed back toward Gondor. They slept the night without watch again.

When they woke, Gwyllion lay amongst them in a deep sleep, her face pale and drawn, as if she had witnessed a loved one's death.

[Imladris]

"Gwyllion!" Aeron shouted, leaning over her and patting her on the cheek.

She groaned slightly, and Aeron's brow puckered in worry. Why wasn't she waking up, and why did she look so sad...so terrified. What had happened to her in the swamp?

He shook her hard, shouting, "GWYLLION! WAKE UP!"

Her body was limp and white...like a ragged doll. She was hardly breathing...

She was dying. He glared into the weeds, leaped to his feet, and shouted, "Traitor! You lying --" he began to spit out the filthy insults. The soft squelchy sound of an arrow plunging into the swamp made him choke on his words.

He rounded on Raefindan, and said, "Why isn't she waking up?"

[Nurumaiel]

Moments had passed, and Ædegard had made no answer, but his face expressed that he was intending to be stern in this matter, and there was also a high degree of entreaty written in his features, as if he was pleading Argeleafa to see his side and agree with him. The tears rose fast to her eyes now, and as they spilled over her cheeks she opened her mouth to say something, but she could find no voice to speak. She turned and fled to where Liornung sat with Bella, and sitting down gave herself wholly up to her grief.

Liornung turned to her with concerned and touched her hair. 'Little Leafa, why are you weeping?' he asked, though there could be no doubt that he already knew the answer.

'You told me, Liornung, to watch Ædegard to see if I loved him,' said Argeleafa. 'I did watch him, and what I saw was cruelty. I did watch him, and I have found that I do not, cannot love him.'

'Then why do you weep?'

She looked up with mild surprise written over her tear-stained face. 'Because it grieves me that I do not love him when I was so certain that I did,' she said, but her tone was slow and uncertain.

'How can that be?' Liornung said. 'Surely if you did not love him you would be glad of finding it out before you were his wife. You would not be sorry for this.' He looked steadily into her eyes, and spoke gently and carefully. 'Leafa, do you not love him? You love him, little lass, and you weep because you think he is cruel, and you would not marry a cruel man no matter how much you loved him. Is this not why you weep?'

Sobs overcame her, and she could not answer for some time. At last she quieted somewhat, and she looked up firmly, though she trembled, and she said, 'Yes, Liornung, I do love him, and I will not marry him. I will not marry him because he is cruel, and because he hates those who are not like him. If I were to be his wife I would constantly see him turning his back upon those who were in need because they were not like him. If I were his wife I would have the pain of seeing him scorn my family because they had set aside their ways and joined the Easterling wayfarers. The pain of all this and more would outweigh my love, and I would be unhappy.'

'Perhaps, perhaps,' said Liornung, and he gazed thoughtfully into the distance. 'I cannot say anything for you, or aid you in your decision at all. It is not my matter. It is yours and yours entirely, save that Ædegard has some part in it. It is your decision. Yet I beg you do not decide now, when you are so overwrought. Wait a time, until you are calmer and Ædegard has had the chance to speak of his feelings on the matter to you.'

'I will wait, if you say so, but I cannot marry him,' she said, her tones full of sorrow and despair, and she let her head fall into her hands to weep some more.

Despite his pity and sorrow for her, Liornung could not keep back the amused smile that flickered over his good-natured face, and he winked at Bella, though she was not looking at him.

[mark12_30]

Nethwador's eyes flicked from Bella to Argeleafa and Liornung, and back to Bella; but then his brow furrowed again, and anger sparked in his eyes. Giving Bella's hand an awkward pat, he turned and approached Argeleafa. He studied her, glancing at Liornung.

Then he turned and looked at Ædegard, and his hands balled into fists. He spoke four strong words in his strange tongue to Argeleafa, and then strode towards Ædegard.

"Wait, " said Argeleafa. "Nethwador--"

Liornung hesitated. "What did he say?"

Argeleafa looked at Liornung through her tears. "I'm not sure, but it was about Ædegard and it wasn't nice."

Liornung stood and called to Nethwador to no avail.

[Nurumaiel]

Argeleafa likewise stood, and her face paled as she grasped Liornung's arm. Fear rose inside of her, and she murmured, 'What is he going to do?'

'I do not know,' said Liornung, his own face dark. 'Nethwador!' he cried. 'Please, return to us.' Nethwador paid no heed. Argeleafa's fear deepened, and she trembled violently. Images rose in her mind, of Nethwador attacking Ædegard, and the latter defending himself with a will. Both would be hurt, surely, if it came to this. Nethwador's intentions were not good; harm to one or both would ensue.

'Oh, cruel, cruel!' she gasped weakly. 'What has my sorrow caused? I should have thought... Nethwador was angry enough without seeing that I had been hurt as well.' She sat down on the ground, feeling that her legs would not support her. Feebly she called to Nethwador, but again he did not answer, and he was almost standing before Ædegard. Argeleafa clenched her fists and watched with terror-filled eyes, finding no will to stand and try to stop Nethwador, nor to call out once again, she watched in quiet desparation, praying that her worries were foolish and that no harm would come to either Nethwador or Ædegard.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Why does it suddenly feel like things are falling apart? Bellyn wondered desperately. She watched with inner grief as Argeleafa mourned her mixed feelings of Ædegard, as Liornung tried to calm her, and as Bellyn herself felt unable to comfort Argeleafa. What can I say to make her feel better? Bellyn thought, knowing that her words were beyond aid but feeling useless with her inability to help. Then Nethwador began to manifest his fuming with Ædegard, making problems significantly worse, and once more making Bellyn feel awkward and useless in the situation.

Argeleafa began to call to Nethwador as he walked away, and Bellyn choked on unsaid words as the Rohirric girl tightened her fists in anguish.

"Nethwador!" Bellyn mumbled, but her voice came out cracked and low. Liornung turned, but if Argeleafa or Nethwador heard the girl's voice then they ignored it. Bellyn stood, unable to stand by even if there was little she could actually do to calm the situation. Bellyn walked, then ran towards Nethwador. "Nethwador! Wait!"

She stopped when she came to the furious Nethwador. Bellyn took his hand in her own, and he turned around for just a moment. When she was sure her voice would come out clearly, Bellyn spoke to the Easterling. "No, Mellon," was all she said, and the words came gently and slowly as Bellyn called Nethwador by the first name she had known him as.

[mark12_30]

Nethwador's eyes widened, and he tipped his head to one side. Although the anger in his eyes did not cool, he took her hand in both of his. "Mellon, " he replied. "Nethwador mellon Bella."

Before Bella had time to smile at the mangled grammar, Nethwador fervently kissed her hand.

Ædegard spoke in a low growl.

"How dare you kiss her? Let go of her."

The anger rekindled in Nethwador's eyes, and he gave Bella a protective push and pointed towards Liornung. She stumbled, and heard five harsh words from Nethwador, and then a volley of fists meeting flesh. She didn't even know who struck first.

[littlemanpoet]

Ædgard was appalled that Nethador would touch, much less kiss, Bellyn. He was even more appalled that she did not show any sign of disgust or revulsion at all. It was little better than orc and elf!

"How dare you kiss her! Let go of her!" He heard his voice as a growl. Nethador looked back at him, enraged, and threw the first punch, followed quickly by the next. Ædegard felt his chest turn on fire, and was pushed back a half step with each punch. He coughed, then ducked down as quickly as he could and grabbed the Easterling by the legs, trying to tip him over. The grass was wet with dew, and his feet slipped out from underneath him. The Easterling boy began pounding on his back, knocking the breath out of him.

[mark12_30]

Nethwador heard cries of distress, but they did not distract him from Ædegard's ragged cough. Good; the cruel one was breathless. He considered sitting on him but thought better of it. He crouched to one side, and rolled him over; one more punch to his chest, one to his eye (for satisfaction), and then he took the man by his shirt, brought Ædegard's face close to him, and snarled through his teeth, "Nethwador mellon Bella."

Ædegard's face went white, and breathless though he was, he rallied, his big hands grasping at the boy. Nethwador twisted like an eel, and Ædegard struggled for a grip. He kicked against the ground, and Nethwador writhed out of his reach yet again. But suddenly the boy seemed to fly backwards.

Nethwador found himself held firmly in the fiddler's slender grasp, and he checked himself. A torrent of Easterling speech came from him, with here and there an elvish word mixed in.

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung's eyes were flashing, a startling thing to see, for he was rarely angry. He did not seem quite angry now, but he was upset and annoyed it was clear. 'Stop this foolishness immediately!' he cried, tightly holding Nethwador's arms behind his back. 'What childish way to behave is this? The sight of you two reminds me of ill-raised children fighting for the largest cake set before them. And you fight not from greed but from hate! I cannot express my disgust for such behavior!'

Speech still spilled from Nethwador's tongue, and Bella hurried to him again, taking his hands and entreating him to calm himself. Again he said to her, 'Nethwador mellon Bella.'

'Oh ho, are you now?' said Liornung. 'Then show it to her. She's entreating you to stop this nonsense. If you are her friend, if you do love her, then listen to her... especially when it's for her good and the good of us all.'

Nethwador still struggled, and Liornung looked to Bella, who continued her attempts to soothe the Easterling lad.

Argeleafa had gone to Ædegard, and she stood before him as he coughed, her eyes full of woe. 'Do you hurt very much, Ædegard?' she asked. He shook his head. The sorrow did not clear from her eyes. 'Why did you have to fight him?'

He recovered himself and spoke in a gasping voice. 'Leafa, he struck me first. I was defending myself.'

She shook her head, and her eyes filled with tears. 'But you struck him first,' said she. 'Your unkind words to him, your behavior towards him... It hurt him as much as a blow, and he saw naught to do but return it.' She gazed at him for a moment, and then she touched his eye, wincing slightly. 'His fists have some strength,' she said. 'Your eye is cut and bleeding. Let me tend to it.' And she said no more, but the woeful expression did not leave her face.

[littlemanpoet]

"Your unkind words to him, your behavior towards him... It hurt him as much as a blow, and he saw naught to do but return it."

Leafa's gentle hand did what could be done for his eye. Her sorrow over the fight touched him. But not even she understood. Could she, could they, not see that the Easterling boy was the one who had shed blood? that he had only tried to stop him? But she said that his behavior toward the boy had forced the boy to hit him? It made no sense. What place did such thinking come from? A man, even a boy, was answerable for his own deeds. That was the way of it.

"I do not understand you," he said to Leafa. "It is as if you think that my words balled his fists and made them find my eye. Was it not his own will? He chose to fight because it was in him to fight. I did not breed the fight into him, his own kind did that. Do you not see?"

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Somehow Nethwador seemed to have escaped most harm through the length of Ædegard's defense. Or at least Bellyn could see no pain other than the hurt mingling with the anger in his eyes. Bellyn grasped Nethwador's shoulders firmly even though she knew that she would not have the strength to keep him from fighting again. Ædegard would be angry with her now, for not shoving Nethwador away when he had kissed her hand. He kissed my hand, Bellyn recalled, repeating this to herself a few times before her eyes shifted for just one moment to the right hand that grasped Nethwador's shoulders. Then she looked back to his face, upset and broken.

"Do you hurt, Mellon?" Bellyn murmured, though she knew her words meant little to him. And she had called him 'Mellon' again. At least he knows that word...why do I call him that now? Bellyn wondered, searching for any visible wounds that might have surfaced in the little fight. Then she looked past Nethwador to where Argeleafa was tending to Ædegard, and for the first time Bellyn feared a conversation with the man. His unwillingness to help the Easterling did not surprise Bellyn much. Ædegard acted on what he knew and felt, and indeed Bellyn had learned such ways towards Nethwador's people as well. For the first time Bellyn realized how hard change actually was. The transition from Edoras to traveling everywhere seemed quick and easy, like the love between Ædegard and Argeleafa, but the change of a person's ideals seemed to come more slowly. Bellyn was still unsure as to why she felt such sympathy - or compassion - for Nethwador. As she thought on this, Nethwador caught Bellyn's shifted gaze, turning around to see Ædegard and letting a scowl deepen on his face. His eyes held a fiery venom, and Bellyn wondered at how someone could get so angry.

"Mellon!" Bellyn chided once more in a gentle voice, still unsure of how to get her point across. Oh! How hard it is to speak and say something that has meaning to another! Bellyn thought dismally. "Did he hurt you?" Bellyn gestured to where Argeleafa sat with Ædegard, and then pointed to Nethwador's chest. Bellyn sighed. "I do not think you bleed as Ædegard does. You should not have fought, Mellon. There are other ways to deal with anger."

[littlemanpoet]

"Why isn't she waking up?" asked Aeron.

"I don'- I do not know," Raefindan said, "but the elf said that she and Mellonin are more useful to him alive. Maybe that is still so. And maybe the drug he has used on her has not yet worn off."

"Drug? You think he dragged her all this way?" Aeron's already furrowed brow deepened, and he went to Gwyllion and examined her more carefully. Looking up he said, "She has not been dragged, at least."

Raefindan smiled. "I meant that the elf's means of causing her to sleep has not yet worn off."

Aeron screwed his brow. "What has that to do with dragging?"

"Not a thing. Not a thing."

Ravion spoke up. "Maybe we shall have Mellonin back after another day!"

"Maybe," Raefindan said, scratching Jorje's ear - for the dog had woken up and scratched himself there - "so let us break our fast and be off soon thereafter!"

"Aye!" Aeron yelled, "Arrow or no arrow from that nasty elf!"

"Erundil," Raefindan said to the other ranger, who was just sitting up, "how do you fare?"

[mark12_30]

Nethwador was irked to see Argeleafa tending Ædegard; Ædegard didn't deserve Argeleafa's attention because he made her cry. But the words from Bella, and her sweet voice, drew his attention away from them, and he listened, gazing into her eyes, trembling a little.

Taitheneb stood among them, startling Bella a little; elves moved so quietly. Nethwador turned to him and stared.

Taitheneb gazed back at him, then spoke. "Lady Bella, Nethwador's anger is for Argeleafa's tears. He must defend her, for she defended him, and was gentle to him. They are wanderers together, and he will protect her against the strangers."

Bella's eyes went wide.

Nethwador nodded. "Nethwador mellon Bella; Nethwador mellon Argeleafa; Nethwador mellon Amroth..." Suddenly Nethwador turned, glanced at Taitheneb, and ran towards Amroth. Taitheneb followed him, and Bella watched them go.

"Amroth? Amroth, " said Nethwador, kneeling beside him.

The sparkling gaze that Amroth turned to Nethwador was humorous, easygoing, that of a normal man. Amroth chuckled, weary, but awake.

"Nethwador. He called you Mellon, did he not? So my friends named me. You may call me Mellon if you like."

Nethwador stared and stared at Amroth, and fear kindled in his eyes. "Amroth?" He turned to Erebemlin, wide-eyed.

Erebemlin nodded. "He is still here, I hope. But it is as if he sleeps, Nethwador. I do not think we can reach him now. I have tried."

"If I may, I would like to rest, " said the blacksmith. "My head hurts. Nay, it aches. And my body is weary. Perhaps I have a fever?"

Erebemlin nodded, weary in heart as the blacksmith was weary in body. "You have had the fever for many days, " he said.

[littlemanpoet]

Ædegard wondered at Bellyn and Leafa, who seemed to hold him responsible for the Easterling's attack against himself! Bellyn spoke to the boy as to a dear friend. Ædegard winced at the wrongness of it. Leafa wept for the boy rather than for him. His heart sank and his gut turned. How was it that these two could act so?

Leafa he could understand, forced to live among Easterlings, having gotten used to them. There was time to help her see the truth. Bellyn was not his affair, but he still wondered how she could behave so. Maybe it was that in Minas Tirith, under the new king, the influence of Elves brought new ways, for all knew that the new king had had much to do with Elves. Ædegard held no ill feeling toward Elves, but their ways were not human ways, and he did not think it was good that humans should take Elvish ways to themselves. It was not natural.

He watched the Easterling boy as Leafa quietly worked on the cut at his eye. He was going to Amroth, shouting Elvish. Now there was an oddity! But Amroth was looking back at the boy in a strange way. A familiar way. Ædegard couldn't place it, but it stirred something in him, made him think of Edoras and a snowball fight.

"Hold a moment, Leafa, I wish to speak to Amroth."

"Hold this healing leaf over your eye, Ædegard," she said.

He smiled. "You are a healing leaf."

She blushed and gave him a quick smile, but the sorrow in her eyes did not dim. Her face succumbed to it again as she walked with him to Amroth and the Elves.

[Nurumaiel]

A few feet from Amroth, Argeleafa stopped Ædegard and beckoned him to lower his head so she might whisper in his ear. 'I have reflected upon what you said,' said she, 'and I do know that it was Nethwador's own will to strike you. Yet you chose to hurt him with words. There was choice on either side, and I think both chose wrong. I am more disappointed in you, however, for...' Her voice slowly dropped away, a look of confusion came to her face, and her eyes speedily travelled the ground as she sought for a reason. '...for you were the first to choose ill.' She just barely saw the look of disappointment in his own eyes, for she had looked to the ground again.

She did not have the courage to tell him her real reasoning for feeling more disappointed with him. It was too difficult a thing to say. How could she say that she loved him so well that it hurt her terribly to see him behave so? How could she say that she thought him the noblest and kindest man in all of Rohan, and in lands beyond, that when she saw him behave in a way that was not noble and kind it stung her like a blow to her face? She did not have the courage to say this.

Her eyes went up to meet his again, and her pale little face was filled with great weariness, for his still held the same expression... an expression of disappointment, as if he could not understand her. Oh, sorrow of sorrows if he should not love her anymore, for some reason that she did not know. Why did he express such anger towards Nethwador, and such disappointment when she pitied the poor boy? And when she pitied Nethwador, or spoke in friendly terms of the band of Wayfarers, he looked at her in an odd manner, as if she had done something wrong. She could not understand this.

'I am sorry,' she said softly, 'I have disappointed you in some manner. I did not mean to cause you any pain or grief.' She did not allow him to speak, but began to move forward again, saying, 'Let us go to Amroth now so you might speak with him.'

[littlemanpoet]

"You were the first to choose ill." Leafa believed this, it was clear. But even the way she spoke it was so much like Leafa that he could let it pass. Yes, it would be a great trouble to help her, make her see things the Rohirric way, but he was willing to take on that burden for love of her. There was such sorrow in her eyes! It wrung his heart.

"I am sorry," she said softly, "I have disappointed you in some manner. I did not mean to cause you any pain or grief." He opened his mouth to reply, but she moved away. "Let us go to Amroth now so you might speak with him."

Ædegard shrugged. She did not want to speak any more of it, for now. That suited him. He rubbed carefully at his eye and went to Amroth and the Elves, following Leafa. He looked at Amroth's face.

"Hullo, Ædegard." Amroth's face was leached by weariness, but his eyes were full of good will and a pleasant humor. And he sounded nothing like Amroth. Mellon had returned!

"Mellon! You are back!" Ædegard found himself on his knees before his friend, peering into his now widened eyes. "Where have you been!"

"Whoa, friend! I know not. But it is good to see you again."

"Give him room, Ædegard," said Erebemlin, "he is feverish and needs to rest."

"Aye, no doubt of it!" He rose to his feet and reached for Leafa. She took his hand and came to him. "Mellon, meet my betrothed, Argeleafa! Leafa, this is Mellon."

[alaklondewen]

Erebemlin was weary…his heart, his mind. The return of the blacksmith was almost too much. The young man lay in the grass near his feet, and the elf watched him closely, watching and hoping for some sign of his king.

"Mellon! You are back! Where have you been!"

Erebemlin raised his eyebrow as the young Ædegard fell to his knees before the blacksmith. The young man had not fallen before the king in such respect. Why would he do so for this man that covered Amroth’s mind?

"Give him room, Ædegard," Erebemlin spoke firmly. "He is feverish and needs to rest."

Ædegard rose and stepped back, but instead of taking his leave as Erebemlin wished, the man took hold of the young Rohirric woman and began to introduce her. The elf pushed himself up quickly from the ground and stepped between the couple and the blacksmith. Erebemlin towered over the man as he narrow his eyes and flared his nostrils. The man, Mellon, began to speak, but the elf interrupted glaring at Ædegard. “He needs rest. There will be time for such things later.” Erebemlin growled, “Go now, both of you, and let him sleep.”

[littlemanpoet]

Mellon smiled and was about to answer him, but Erebemlin stood and interrupted him.

“He needs rest. There will be time for such things later,” the elf growled. “Go now, both of you, and let him sleep.”

"You are right, Erebemlin, but this will only take a moment." Ædegard looked to Leafa. "Come, Leafa, come closer. This is Mellon." Leafa's eyes darted uncertainly between him and the elf.

"Youngling, do not cross me!"

Ædegard faced the elf, whose eyes smoldered now. But Ædegard was not one to back down from a bully. He let go of Leafa's hand and came close to the elf, looking up into the tall one's eyes fiercely.

"Mellon is back, elf. He is no longer your Amroth, but Mellon, and a human. You have no rights to speak for him."

"Fool!" Erebemlin was furious now. The other elf, the one called Taitheneb, stood up and came toward Ædegard.

"Two against one, then, is it?" Ædegard said.

"Would you be in the middle of all the fights you can in one day, youngling? Do not bait me, you young Rohirric fool."

"Ædegard," Taitheneb said, raising a hand in a gesture of calming, "Erebemlin fears for Amroth, as do I. He is still with your Mellon. We must care for them both."

"That may be," Ædegard said, "but I will not be bullied by elf, Easterling, or any man."

"None here bullies you," Taitheneb said while Erebemlin glowered in silence, still standing between Ædegard and the feverish Mellon, "but the two of you at a stalemate mere feet from Mellon can do neither him nor Amroth any good."

Ædegard raised his hands in a sign of truce. "I do not wish to hurt anyone here. I will wait until Mellon is rested. But you-!" he pointed at Erebemlin "must needs gainsay your words to me!"

Erebemlin stared into Ædegard's eyes. "I name fool he who speaks and acts as one. Do wisely and I will name you wise."

"I name you full of pride, then, oh great elf." Ædegard turned on his heel and walked past Taitheneb and Leafa, to his own horse. He groomed his mount in silence, and told himself that he would speak to no-one for the rest of the day. Not even Leafa. Well, except maybe Leafa.

[mark12_30]

Mellondu waited til the quarrel was over; he hated strife of any kind. The elves turned their backs, Erebemlin angry, Taitheneb cautious, and stalked to their own horses. Mellondu thought a moment, and then clicked his tongue; Echo raised his head.

"Come here, Echo, " Mellondu murmured, but the horse continued to chew his mouthful of grass. No one took any notice of him, or so he thought. He clicked his tongue again.

He was surprised to see Nethwador walk toward Echo, and grasp the horse's forelock. Two tall chestnut horses, with Nethwador between them, approached Mellondu. He waited.

Nethwador offered Mellondu a hand, and Mellondu slowly stood, and leaned on Echo. Nethwador twisted a thick grass-wisp, and began to groom Echo; Mellondu reached for it, and Nethwador gave him the wisp, and quickly twisted a new one for himself.

"Thanks, " Mellondu said in the common tongue.

Nethwador studied Mellondu uneasily, and then said "Nethwador mellon Amroth."

With a sparkling eye, Mellondu nodded, and then tapping his own chest, he replied, "Mellondu mellon Nethwador." With a good-natured chuckle, he laid a hand on Nethwador's shoulder. Nethwador relaxed.

Mellondu grew grave for a moment, and then chuckled again. "You need a song," he said to the puzzled lad. "The Tale of Wild Nethwador and the Lady Bellyn. Then we would all be helping you, too. One must have a song, if one will go on a quest to win a lady's heart." He chuckled again, and then shivered. "Perhaps Liornung will write you one." He leaned on Echo's neck, and Nethwador hurriedly finished grooming the big chestnut, and then saddled him. Mellondu looked wearily up at the big horse, and Nethwador stood back, expecting the elvish leap; Mellondu dropped his eyes. "Not today." He studied the stirrup, gathering his willpower, put his foot in the stirrup and hauled himself up onto Echo's back.

Echo staggered, eyes bulging as Mellondu struggled to right himself in the saddle. Nethwador shook his head, and steadied Echo, speaking to him in his strange tongue; Echo snorted, and turned a white-rimmed eye to look at Mellondu.

Mellondu reached down and laid a hand on Nethwador's shoulder. "Thanks, mellon."

Nethwador looked up at Mellondu, startled. "Mellon. Nethwador mellon Mellondu."

The sparkle returned to Mellondu's eyes. "Mellon mellon Mellon."

Nethwador laughed aloud and swung aboard Celegoer Beorneth. The two small, slender darkhaired men on their lanky chestnut horses rode forward to the head of the column. Neither noticed the anger in the eyes of the tallest of the elves.

[Nurumaiel]

Argeleafa gazed about her in despair and struggled with the temptation to sit down and burst into tears again. She looked towards Ædegard, but his face was dark and stormy. She looked for Liornung, but she could not see him through the tears that were rising fast in her eyes. She would not weep, whatever the inclination. The last time ill things had come of it. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers at them, and took many deep breaths, until she felt that, while still shaking and sorrowful, she would not weep.

Oh, but the world was an odd place! She had been so happy, engaged to Ædegard, and now everything was crumbling to pieces about her. Oh, would it happen that Ædegard would not love her anymore, and would not want her to be his wife? It was a bitter thing to reflect upon. Things such as it were never supposed to happen, save in the songs Liornung sang each night by the fire. Now he could compose a new song, and name it, 'The Sorrowful Tale of Ædegard and Argeleafa.' It was cruel, too cruel.

She sat down upon the ground and immersed herself in her feelings of grief and bitterness. Ædegard did not look at her, but continued to groom his steed, his eyes smouldering. Well then! Neither would she look at him, nor would she speak to him. It was a mad idea that sprang to her head, and it was unlike her, the quiet gentle little girl, but it came to her nevertheless, and she resolved to ignore Ædegard for as long as it was possible.

[littlemanpoet]

Ædegard rode in silence, at the back of the party. Alone. Ahead of him rode Liornung with Bellyn to his right and Leafa to his left. Leafa had not looked back at him once. Ahead of them rode the two elves side by side, and leading the party, Mellon and the Easterling, already fast friends. It left a very sour taste in Ædegard's mouth. Did Ædegard and Mellon's friendship mean nothing? No, it was the elves who kept him away from his friend but let the Easterling boy joke with him.

Do not bait me, you young Rohirric fool. The memory of the leader Elf's words were fresh in his mind, and irked him no less than at first. All of them, even Leafa, had sided against him. He was disgusted. "I might as well break the engagement and go straight home. They will not miss me. They would most likely be pleased." Even Leafa.

You were the first to choose ill. That was what Leafa believed. She had said so herself, and she always spoke the truth as well as she saw it. He remembered the expression on her face as she said it. Sorrow, as if it was a great wrong he had done, and she was sorrowful that he had done it. Anger smouldered in him. Did she not see? All he had done was right, according to the ways of the Rohirrim! She was a Rohirrim! She should know these things! But she had been forced to live among the Easterling wanderers, and had learned to suffer them their ways. He still held out hope that he could teach her the ways of the Rohirrim. They were hard ways, and he hoped that once she learned those ways better, they would not lessen her pity for those who suffered. You were the first to choose ill.

Oh.

She had pity on the Easterling boy. As did the rest of them. The boy did become friendly to those who were kind to him. Could it be that he was wrong about the Easterling boy? Could it be that the ways of the Rohirrim were not right? Nonsense! The fathers of his fathers had lived by these ways, and they were good ways. That the others did not see this was sad, but he could live with it.

Youngling. Insufferable Elf. As for as Ædegard cared, the sea could take them all. More living space for his folk once the Elves left. He knew he was being unkind, but they were not his kind. He had heard it said that the ages of the Elves were past, that the new age was that of Men. Let them pass, let them pass; pass away into the west where their Elven home awaited them.

I am more disappointed in you... Leafa's face came back with sudden clarity; her words were hammer strokes. So much power in one so small and timid. You were the first to choose ill. Ædegard's eyes became wet, for a lump had formed in his throat. He wished the day had gone other than it had. Round and round the words of the others, and his own, spun in his mind all day long, burning themselves into his memory. He wished to sleep and tried to will the sun down to its setting.

On they rode, ever south.

[littlemanpoet]

"Erundil," Raefindan said to the other ranger, who was just sitting up, "how do you fare?"

"Well enough." He pulled himself to his feet. "So the elf has returned one of them to us."

"Aye," Raefindan said. "I do not think he is far off."

"If that is so," Ravion said, "then Mellonin must not be far off either."

"You think he keeps her with him, then?" Raefindan asked, shading his eyes, looking off into the distance of the swamp. He did not expect to see the elf, but was sure he was there.

"He would need to, or he could not stay with us and have returned Gwyllion."

"I do not know the way of elves," said Erundil, "but could he not track us? I would not be surprised if he could move more quickly than we."

"His arrows have been too ready at hand," answered Raefindan, "is that not so Aeron?"

The boy was distracted, watching Gwyllion's sleeping face, which did not change for all his attentions. He looked up. "Aye! I could draw one this way now, I wager." He stood and faced the general direction of the swamp, then put his hands to his mouth and called, "Let us hunt the elf and find the other one!"

"Aeron!" Raefindan warned. "It is not wise to-"

"Ow!" Aeron yelled, hopping on one foot. He landed with a watery squash just off the path, an arrow buried in his right foot. He held his foot in both hands and said through gritted teeth, "I will kill that elf!"

Suddenly Ravion ran toward Aeron with one of the bags from Gond's side in hand. Aeron ducked and squinted as if expecting to be tackled, but Ravion hit the ground just before him, facing the swamp. There was a thud, for an arrow had pierced the bag.

"Get him to the other side of Gond!" Ravion yelled. Raefindan and Erundil picked Aeron up between them and carried him out of the line of fire.

"If I were you, Aeron," said Raefindan, "I would not be too quick to speak of killing the elf."

"I didn't say it loud!"

"Elves have ears like conies."

"They are that long and stick up?" Aeron grinned through his discomfort.

Raefindan grinned. "Some think so. But it is their hearing I spoke of."

"I know that! Keep an eye for Gwyllion!"

"I have her," Ravion said.

"Let us have a look at that foot," Erundil said.

[alaklondewen]

Erebemlin rode in complete silence, keeping his eyes forward and his teeth clinched. He could feel Taitheneb’s eyes burrowing into him, but the elder elf kept his mind closed, not wanting to hear the always sensitive words of the younger. He was not proud of his behavior at the camp, but he sometimes felt as though he was the only one that truly cared for Lord Amroth. Now his king was beyond his aid. If only Erebemlin could communicate with the king and just know Amroth was safe…

Taitheneb was searching him again, looking over from atop his horse with his large, sympathetic silver eyes. Erebemlin purposefully turned his face away from the other elf and searched the river, letting his eyes roam from bank to bank.

Taitheneb noticed Erebemlin’s standoffishness and was hurt by it. He understood the elder’s concern about the king, but Taitheneb was worried about how the other elf was handling the pressure. He had never seen Erebemlin crumble under the demands of duty, yet he knew this was deeper. Erebemlin’s heart was breaking. The king, who he had seen as his hero and his father after his true father passed on, had suddenly reappeared into the warrior’s life, and now…he was gone almost as quickly as he came.

The younger elf understood this and just wished Erebemlin would let him comfort him in some way, but the elder was proud…too proud to show such sensitivities. Taitheneb tried to break the silence. “Will we keep to our current path, Silmaethor?”

Without facing him, Erebemlin replied, “Yes, Lord Amroth wished to search the river banks for the Lady, and we will keep to his orders.”

“And what if we find her?”

The simple question caught Erebemlin off guard. What would they do if they found Nimrodel beside the river? Something told him they would not, but would Amroth return if she was found? Erebemlin shook his head slowing. “I know not,” he said softly. “I know not.”

[mark12_30]

*Place holder, just in case*

[mark12_30]

Cerin Amroth, often so still and calm, lay in the eye of a storm. The white trees lashed each other. The mighty mallorn heaved and creaked in the wind. The rain lashed its golden leaves and turned the silver trunk dark grey. Round Cerin Amroth, the forest was empty, save one.

Upon the high floor he lay facedown, body pressed flat against the talan, wet with rain and tears. The wind moaned, the tree groaned; he tried not to groan, and failed. The tree heard his cry, and shuddered. Torn, shredding mist passed through the great trees and drifted to the hill below, where Niphredil and Elanor trembled and tossed in the tearing winds. Swaying, the mists beckoned to him as they walked among the white and golden blossoms. He raised his sodden, golden head, and then lay back down again, pressing his forehead to the floor.

She has sent me away. Shall I face the ages alone? Would it not be better to cease to be?

The fury of the storm doubled, and the mallorn's cries grew wilder. He felt the floor heaving beneath him; the rain lashed his back, stinging like hail. It roused him; he looked up again. He went to the edge of the flet, and looked west. Her stream; she still sang beside her stream. He thought he could hear her amid the wild winds and lashing rain; how could that be? He gazed into the night, and knew it was true; her falling-silver voice came to him, wringing his heart, breaking him. He wept anew.

Salt... salt on his face, on his lips, in his hair.

The timbers of the ship groaned and cried, sometimes rising to a scream; the deck pitched and tossed beneath him. The sails were too full; the ropes were horribly tight. He stood at the rail.

She was there. He reached out with his mind, his soul, his very heart; she was standing by a stream, singing, lamenting his departure. Faithless! Ah, how faithless he himself had been, to ever leave her side!

"It is too late. We must run with this wind, " cried a nearby elf. Amroth looked at him; a line had snapped and stood out stiff and straight in the wind. The elf fought with it, and with the sail it had abandoned.

Amroth's eyes kindled. "Fool! I will not part with her; do not say that again!"

The elf laughed. "You parted with her long ago. And you will not be king where we are bound, nor are you any longer king in the forest. Your wish is no longer law."

Amroth wasted no more time on this fool, this rebel; he stood on the rail, looked to the shore and prepared to leap.

Mist passed before him, and when it cleared, he shook his head, dazed. He stood on a low threshold of a small cottage, looking into a broad, shallow pool perhaps three feet deep. Green lilypads covered a few parts of the surface near the shore. Green slime dripped off of the few reeds that swayed nearby. In and out of the reeds swam long slender dark fish, and on the far side of the pond was a flock of geese. An eel swam past him and disappeared into the reeds. Repulsed, he looked over at the geese; they swam as if they had not seen him. The air was heavy, woven with scents foul and sickly sweet.

He turned to look into the cottage behind him, and saw an elderly, sorrowful man and woman. The woman sewed; the man gazed into the fire. He asked them where the ship had gone. They did not hear him. He asked again.

"Ship? Nay, my dear. They left on foot," said the old woman to her husband.

"Eh? What's that?" he replied, startled out of his reverie. She shrugged, and his gaze returned to the fire.

Amroth turned and looked out into the dank and stagnant pool, and saw fields beyond, and rolling hills in the far distance. He reached out with his heart looking for Nimrodel. There-- a woman, weeping, wrestling with sorrow, with loss. A woman longing for the return of...

She was gone; or was it, that she was hidden? He reached out again.

A man, hunting, searching for the elf-woman he had loved so dearly; combing the woods and the mountainsides, calling, crying. Hearing his own cries echoed in the man's sorrow, Amroth hastened to the man's side. Putting a hand on the man's shoulder, Amroth willed to strengthen him, to encourage him. The man turned to him, and their eyes met.

Amroth wondered at the red shine of the man's hair, but even as he looked at it again, the man melted away.

Amroth looked around, blinking. Where was the pool? He stood on a riverbank.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an old, wizened tree; he turned to look at it. Its back was toward him, and it walked to the riverside, and carefully placed its' broad woody toes into the water. Then, reaching down, the ent grasped the water in its branching hands, and lifted it. The water ran through his fingers into the river. The sun shimmered on the water, and the ent was gone.

Nearby stood a slender darkhaired woman, and she held goose-feathers in her hands, reaching to him, beckoning him. "Fly to me, my Dark-love; return to me. Come back to me." She held out the feathers. Amroth reached for her, for the feathers.

They became snakes. The woman was gone, and Amroth was being pulled under the water. His hair drifted in the current, and he felt that this had happened before, and yet-- this was different; the water was not sea-green, but dark, muddy, and he could not see the sun glistening through the water. All he knew was black mud and stinking slime, swampy sucking stifling ... he sank further, his breath bubbling from him, and as if from far away he heard the mocking laughter of the elf on the deck of the ship.

Amroth cried out in anger, and then gave a defiant shout. His spirit kindled and burned. He burst upward, leaving tentacles and slime behind; he was ablaze like Feanor of old, and he stood on the riverbank roaring his rage.

The reedy pools and stinking mud, the dark water, the grassy riversides; the fields and rolling hills beyond-- he stopped, and in a whisper spoke his recognition of the place. "The fingers of Fangorn grasp the Anduin... at the Entwash. The Entwash!"

[mark12_30]

Mellonin stared, eyes wild, breath caught. Her brother! He stood on the river with the reflected sun glowing around him; her heart went into her mouth.

Mellondu.

She reached for him, called to him. He began to sink.

"Mellondu!"

She leaped in after him, but tentacles caught him and pulled him down. She reached for her knife; it was gone. She swam downward, clawing at the tentacles, but they pushed her away. She clawed at them again. One massive tentacle wrapped itself around her, and threw her out of the water and slammed her onto the riverbank. She lay with the breath knocked out of her. Nearby, the rising bubbles dwindled and faded into silence; Mellondu was gone.

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan had asked Ravion to lead them, being a ranger and healthy and unwounded. Gwyllion was strapped to Gond, led Raefindan. Aeron, his foot injured, sat atop Gond, holding Gwyllion in place. Erundil walked behind Ravion, and in front of Raefindan.

They walked for hours and did not stop for lunch. They could sense that they were almost out of the swamp, and were eager to be out of the clutches of the swamp elf. Maybe, maybe, Mellonin would be returned to them once they were beyond the swamp. Raefindan hoped so, but doubt ate at him.

As the sun set, the last of the swamps fell into the distance behind them. Solid, grassy land surrounded them. Raefindan called a halt and they ate, then the dressings were changed on Erundil's hand and Aeron's foot.

"Now that we are beyond the swamp, we should set up a watch again," Raefindan said. I will take the first watch of two hours. Aeron, take the second, Ravion the third, and Erundil the fourth. Then we should rise for the new day."

"Will the swamp elf return Mellonin if one of us is awake?" Ravion asked.

Raefindan frowned. "You raise a good point, Ravion. I do not know. What do you think?"

"I think that we are still under the elf's watchful eye, and our lives are both safe and forfeit at once, depending on his will."

"I do not like it, but I think you are right. No watch tonight, then."

They settled down for the night, for they were weary from a long walk. They took special care with Gwyllion, who had begun to moan in her sleep. Aeron declared that she must be waking up; but it was not so: after watching her with care for a half hour, she showed no sign of waking.

They retired for the night, Aeron staying close to Gwyllion; Jorje sleeping next to Raefindan.

[Imladris]

Gwyllion ceased her struggling as she saw the tentatacle release the limp body of Aeron. She wanted to scream as she saw him drift away, his lips parted, his cheeks dead, his eyes scraps of metal.

She wanted to die --- but she forgot. She was already dead. Why could she not be with her brother? Was she too just a limp body chained to the rock? Why was he allowed to drift and she was not?

She began to struggle again, straining the chains, ignoring the dull scraping sound they made. Suddenly, she was let loose. She was drifting in the water, her hair a burnished sun behind her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aeron peered intently at his foot. There was a nasty hole in it, courtesy of that fiendish elf. "Do you suppose it'll scar, Raefindan?" he asked, touching it gingerly.

"Maybe," the red haired man, peering intently into the dark.

"I hope it will," Aeron said eagerly. "My first battle scar ever."

"That was quite some battle, Aeron," Raefindan said, his mouth twitching.

Aeron frowned at him. "You're laughing at me," he said.

Raefindan shook his head solemnly.

Aeron let go of his foot and dropped his arm around Gwyllion's shoulder. She moaned again, but her face was still white, and sad, even though she seemed to smile a little. He wondered why...what dreams tormented her...

[Orual]

"Scarring is not what I would be worried about, were I in your position," Ravion said gloomily. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small flask, then handed it to Raefindan. "Do not drink this--pour a little of it on the wound. It should stop the spread of disease. A deep puncture wound like that is easily infected. That is the real danger here."

He sat back heavily, his elbows resting on his knees and his face buried. He felt three pairs of eyes on him, but did not look up. He fiddled with the bag that he had thrust in front of Aeron's foot--it still had the arrow embedded in it, a grim symbol of their vigilant observer. He touched the arrow, feeling the expert craftsmanship of the Elves. He shuddered that it would be used against him and his companions.

He turned and glanced at Gwyllion, still sleeping peacefully, her lips curved in a gentle but sad smile. Sleep makes the frailest a giant: sleeping, Gwyllion seemed a tragic hero, a suffering goddess. Under what spell did the elf hold her, that she slept like this? How could they break it? How could they get her to wake?

"Ravion, you have said little since you returned," Raefindan said. "What troubles you?"

Ravion looked over at Raefindan, then scanned the rest of the company, one by one, noting again with a pang the absence of Mellonin. It was said that often a person can "see" the absence of another: sometimes it is all that they see. Ravion "saw" the empty spaces that might of held Mellonin. "Much troubles me," he said softly. "But we can talk about such things after we have our company back together, safe and well."

He gazed into the distance. The elf kept close to them, watching their every move, listening closely to their conversations. He had Mellonin, and he was waiting for something--a sign, a bargain, something he wanted. What was it? Ravion could not fathom. He knew, though, that he would be willing to give anything that he had to regain Mellonin--to bring the company back together, to make it whole again.

He looked up at the stars, as though they might provide some answers. They held none: only cold darkness. He was a leader, but he was lost. How would he get them out of this?

[littlemanpoet]

With the young woman in his keeping, their thoughts were an open lore book to him. They were so blind. They were like blind mice in a maze, wandering here and there, drawn this way and that by their hungers and needs. Such a pitiful race. So easily led this way and that. It was so easy to keep hidden from their view that he was almost tempted to show himself.

Except that showing himself might open roads he could not let them know were even there. And he feared that he had done just that with Amroth, mere hours ago. He had been so careful, but not careful enough. He had kept his face straight, his appearance mute, just an elf on the ship sailing west. But somehow, Tharonwe did not know how, Amroth had perceived Tharonwe's inner glee at seeing the Elf Lord duped. A moments weakness; one moment too many. Amroth would come searching, into his swamp, and he would be found - if he stayed there. So he had to stay away from the swamp now. He must close his mind down from now on, no matter how tempting to try and change the course Amroth's searchings took, no matter how tempting to spite the Elf Lord for taking what should have been his own!

Must not think about the loss of her. It weakens me. Such thoughts draw his perception more than any.

He would have to break up this little company like so many sparks in the breeze. And he would have to go south himself. It seemed there was a merchant and a footman that could come in handy.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Despair entered Bellyn’s mind as they rode onward to some destination unknown to her. Things between each member of the company had fallen into disrepair, and most of the broken bonds seemed beyond mending to Bellyn. Her confusion came mostly because she had never had to deal with such problems in her life before she had left the tavern with Liornung that day. That day seemed so far behind them! The group had traveled so far together, only to have it torn apart. Relationships that were once just a little rocky had so quickly become sharp stones, ripe for throwing.

If Nethwador would not care for me so, these things would have never happened…

Bellyn shook her head as the thought entered her mind. She had not meant for it to sound so bitter or so foolish, even if she was only thinking it to herself. Bellyn knew it was silly to think such a thing, but for some reason she could not shake it from her mind. Truly, Bellyn was quite flattered by Nethwador’s affections. Am I not supposed to feel good? Am I not meant to feel wonderful that someone feels for me in such a way? Again her own thoughts bewildered her. Certainly I would not be so confused if I had never left home.

What about Amroth and his search?

Ashamed of her inability thus far to aid his actual search in any way, and upset that the people within the group could not cooperate, Bellyn sighed deeply in frustration. She looked about her surroundings, aching for a solution for the problems. Bellyn had never realized how much she cared for things to be right, and how much she would do for things to be set straight. Riding over closer Liornung, Bellyn decided to voice her thoughts before they did any more damage bouncing around her head.

“Liornung!” Bellyn murmured, catching the fiddler’s attention. “Liornung, my thoughts are dark. Do you think that things will soon be fixed within our own group? Do you think that Lord Amroth’s search will ever be complete?

[Nurumaiel]

'I cannot say, dear Bella,' said Liornung, shaking his head. 'Things will be mended, and for the better, but I cannot say if it will be in the way everyone expects, or, indeed in the way everyone desires. But things will be set aright, somehow.' He spoke casually, but when he glanced over at her and saw the expression on her face he immediately reached out to pat her hand. 'There now, lassie, don't be fretting!' he said. 'Trust what I say, and let's have a merry tune to cheer any sorrowful hearts. I have rarely attempted to play the fiddle upon horseback, but it has proven to be a somewhat difficult task, yet I am willing to try.' And he released the reins and fumbled about at his back where he had securely strapped his fiddle.

Argeleafa rode a ways apart from Ædegard, and behind him so he could not see her, but her eyes were fixed on his back and her thoughts were tortured. Pride had overtaken her meekness, but slowly, ever so slowly love was taking over her pride. She did not want to give in, and ride closer to him, though she ached to do so, for it would humble her, and she did not want to be humbled. Her chin went in the air, and her hands tightly clenched her reins, and she resolved she would not give in. And then there was a rush of music behind her, and a merry tune sent her heart thrilling up, and Liornung's fine voice broke through all her troubled thoughts.

'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!'

And when the song ended, Argeleafa was riding alongside of Ædegard rather than behind him. Not near to him, not yet, but she was level to him now, and not hiding from his view. Liornung did not notice, but he smiled to see that Bella was cheerier.

[littlemanpoet]

Little by little as the day passed, Ædegard had moved from the back of the group to the middle, so that he rode ahead of Leafa, Bellyn, and Liornung, and behind the Easterline and the Elves. His thoughts still raged, circling around the many things that had been said. He was not sure how he had gotten ahead of the other three, for he was consumed by his thoughts. You were the first to choose ill. Those words of Leafa were the ones that stayed him longest of all.

Liornung started fiddling and singing. It was a relief, for until then the party had traveled in unremitting silence. He let the words wash over him; then his attention was caught by a line or two.

"Tears and groans and angry words
are naught but trouble borrowed."

Indeed. Ædegard did not want all the trouble. He felt cut off from his friends, and hated it.

Leafa was riding abreast of him, though not close. She did not look toward him, but held her head high, and her hands clung to her reins as if they did more than keep her in the saddle.

Ædegard wanted to speak to her, some word, something to break through the silence. I am sorry. Were those words true? Yes, but could he say them? He could not bring himself to. He sighed and felt his face sag and his shoulders droop. He did not deserve her.

[littlemanpoet]

Tharonwe was unsure whether to give the sleeping woman back the group. He had promised them that he would return her after they had left his swamp, but that meant little to him. His survival and the survival of his plans were more important.

He asked himself what would be likely to happen if he did give her back.

The group would be joyful, but not completely until she woke. And when both woke, they would tell the others what they had dreamed. The older of the two young women, she who was still in Tharonwe's keeping, would doubtless tell them of her brother whom she had seen in her dreams, and would earnestly beg for them to return. For now Tharonwe had come to understand that Amroth was not back in Middle Earth in the flesh, but was borrowing a human, and that human was the brother of his captive. With her earnest pleading, they would retrace their steps, no matter how dangerous, and head back into the swamp. And he would have to kill them, every last one, even the horse and dog.

If he did not give her back, they would be his pawns, and he could continue to play them out according to his need. He could peal off the two youngest ones by means of the merchant's lust for revenge. And then the two rangers would have to choose whether to follow the merchant and his soon to be captives back to Minas Tirith, or continue with the redhead, or strike out on their own. And what would the redhead do? He would continue to do as he was told until the woman was returned to him. Such honor. Such foolishness.

Yes, it would serve his purpose far better to keep the woman captive.

[mark12_30]

From the blackness and despair, slowly, everything turned to grey fog, a chill mist. She could see nothing. She could hear nothing. She felt that she could decide nothing, or desire nothing; that was not quite true. But to feel or desire or decide took tremendous effort, and was hardly worth it. She watched the fog.

At first, it was a relief.

After many hours, even in her dreams she thought she would go mad.

[mark12_30]

Nethwador watched Mellondu as Celegoer Beorneth and Echo trotted steadily along the riverbank. Behind them, Erebemlin and Taitheneb watched Mellondu's back uneasily, probing, listening, waiting, watching. Erebemlin, grim-faced, steadily ignored the rest of the troop. Taitheneb 's eyes often studied his icy leader, but to no avail.

Mellondu whistled often, sang sometimes, and spoke little. He was happy, except for two things; he was worried, now that he knew his sister was pursuing him; and he was restless, not knowing where Nimrodel might be. But to be on horseback in a company with two elves, two women, and three other companions from other lands was the height of romance and intrigue-- bested only by the purpose of the quest. He submitted joyously to the enchantment enjoying every moment of it.

If only I knew that my sister was safe, I would be happy.

But that was not quite true. He also missed Nimrodel; missed her lovely eyes, her lilting voice, her shimmering hair and her comforting arms.

Best not to think on that.

They trotted on and on, Erebemlin watching for any sign that his lord was still with them.

Late that afternoon he found what he sought. A flicker, a spark; a flame. The king's anger burned, he cried for vengeance, and suddenly like a ready beacon answering the torch, the young blacksmith turned to Erebemlin and Taitheneb and met their eyes. The king had returned.

Echo turned to block the group and halted; suprised, the troop milled to a halt. Sudden questions were hushed by Erebemlin's upraised hand; the elf leaned forward to listen.

He spoke in a low voice. "Close your minds, Taitheneb, Erebemlin. All of you; close your thoughts, even to one another. There is one to the south who deceives and darkens; we will find him, and I will have vengeance, my friends. Perhaps this is why I have come. We ride now. I will not stop for nightfall; let them who cannot keep up turn aside. "

Echo tossed his head, spun on his haunches, and in moments the troop was strung out at a steady gallop. Ahead and to their left, the rugged lands tumbled around Rauros; even in the distance, the falls were loud, and as they passed to the southwest of them as night fell, the roar of the falls mingled with the thunder of the hooves.

They left the falls behind them, and rode on. Ahead of them the swamps of the Entwash lay flat and dreary; they halted at the first stream, and Nethwador and Taitheneb watched as Amroth surveyed the land. Erebemlin pointed. "My lord, a path."

Ædegard muttered, "If that is anything more than a rabbit trail, then I am king of this swamp."

Liornung smiled and whispered a reply. "You still do not trust their elf-eyes, good Ædegard? I fear you will find few rabbits here. I will write you a merry coronation song, o swamp-king."

Despite their weariness, the ladies giggled.

Erebemlin hushed them sharply, and Taitheneb trotted forward to the path. They strung out in single-file, Taitheneb, Amroth, Nethwador, Erebemlin, the ladies, Liornung, Ædegard. All night long the only noise was the buzz of flies, the soft creaking of saddle-leather, and the subdued squishing of muddy hooves. They crossed the fifth stream as the eastern stars faded in the greying sky. Bella swayed in the saddle, and Argeleafa spoke to her; Erebemlin shushed her harshly.

Dawn came, and the sixth and seventh streams passed. Horses stumbled; men yawned. Still Amroth drove them southeast. Nethwador watched uneasily; the eyes of all three elves were icy fire. The ground under them grew firm, and the elves' faces became grim.

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan woke. The sun was just above the horizon. Looking around, he saw that none of the others had woken yet. There was Ravion and Erundil, and Aeron. And Gwyllion.

Mellonin was not with them.

Raefindan felt the bile rise to his throat. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs, accusing the swamp elf of cold hearted lies. He found himself on his feet, his fists curled tightly. He was holding his breath. He exhaled, and rested his hands on his knees.

He looked up again. Had that been laughter? Or just a beast snuffling in the distance? He was not sure.

His breath made vapor. He clapped himself with his arms to stay warm. Gond nickered. Jorje lifted his head, perked an ear, and whined. The sounds woke Ravion.

"Good morning, Ravion."

"To you as well."

"Well, not so good, really."

Ravion's head came up and he squinted at Raefindan, waiting.

"No Mellonin."

Ravion's eyes closed and he took in breath as if he had received a physical blow.

"The lying, treacherous elf," Ravion murmured.

"Speak not too loudly or you may have an arrow in your tongue."

Ravion humphed. "I know it only too well." He stood and woke Erundil while Raefindan tapped Aeron on the shoulder.

Soon all were awake and talking, except for Gwyllion. Aeron was studying her. Raefindan could imagine Aeron's fear that she might never wake up.

"Aeron, try and wake her."

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

‘Close your minds, Taitheneb, Erebemlin. All of you; close your thoughts, even to one another.’

The time had gone by slowly since the warning made by Amroth. The passionate travelers rode ever on towards a destination unknown to Bellyn, who was still confused by the words of her companion.

Close my mind? She wondered, biting her lip though she’d had long hours to contemplate the words. How am I ever going to do that? The idea seemed rather absurd to Bellyn, who had no idea how to accomplish such a task. Is my mind like a door? To be opened and shut at will by any who seek to read my thoughts?

Lost in her thoughts, Bellyn swayed and shifted in her saddle. Argeleafa spoke a word to her, but was hushed immediately. Bellyn felt badly for Argeleafa, and shrugged in Erebemlin’s direction at seeing Argeleafa’s hurt face. The seriousness of the ride, when combined with the long, sleepless hours did not help anyone’s mood. Bellyn squeezed her eyes shut, then wiped away the tears accumulated from yawning.

Like weathered trees that had long since grown roots to face the merciless wind, expressions on the Elves remained stony and rough. Dawn did not bring comfort or relief from the harsh night, and it seemed as if hope drifted farther away with every hour spent riding across the land. There seemed no intention of stopping from anyone in the group.

Bellyn dare not speak for fear of Erebemlin’s wrath, but the awkward silence of it all made her want to scream.

[littlemanpoet]

Aeron moved to Gwyllion and nudged her shoulder. "Gwyll?" Her eyes fluttered and opened. "Gwyll!" She winced.

"Ow! Must you scream in my ear, you naughty boy?"

"Gwyll! You're awake!" Raefindan chuckled; Aeron's smile threatened to crack his face, it was so big.

She sat up and looked at him, stunned. "You died! I saw you drown! Or was that a dream?" She closed her eyes and shook her head as if trying to shake away the last cobwebs of sleep.

"The swamp elf took you from us, Gwyll! You've been asleep for days!"

Her eyes went wide, then narrowed to slits. "Do not jest so cruelly with me!"

"It is the truth, Gwyllion," Raefindan said. "It is good to see you awake and yourself."

She looked at Raefindan, confused. "I could not be someone else."

Raefindan smiled. "No, of course not."

"But he still has Mellonin," Ravion grated.

"The swamp elf has Mellonin?" Gwyllion asked, horrified.

"Aye," answered Raefindan. "He holds our choices hostage as long as he keeps her. If his treatment of you is any sign, we would do well to continue to do his bidding, which is to make our way back to Minas Tirith. Maybe he will return her to us safe and sound. Let us break our fast and be ready to go before the sun rises a half a hand's breadth higher."

They did as he said. Soon they were moving south, Jorje romping ahead on the open plain, running freely like he could not on the narrow paths of the swamp.

They halted for a noon meal when the sun was at its height. As they sat in a circle, glum for the lack of Mellonin, a party of a dozen or so men could be seen approaching on horseback from the south.

"Do you see them?" asked Erundil, pointing. "They are far from the road. I wonder what they do so near the swamp?"

"I know not," said Raefindan, "but they seem to be headed our way."

So it was. In another minute, the horsemen had come near enough to be seen clearly.

"Oh no," said Aeron. "That merchant is with them."

Raefindan stood, and the others followed his lead. In moments, they were surrounded by fourteen horsemen, swords drawn. Raefindan picked out their leader by his crested helm, for twelve who were with the merchant and his man at arms, wore soldierly garb.

"Good day to you. Your actions show you to be hostile to us. Why is this?"

"There are two among you who are thieves." He eyed Aeron and Gwyllion pointedly. "We have come to take them back to Minas Tirith, and claim our reward for their capture."

"You may not have them," Raefindan said evenly.

"We shall have them, and you will not stand in our way, at peril to your lives."

[Imladris]

The merchant blinked his eyes at them. They had just gotten through with this some time ago. "You are outnumbered. If you do not let us have them, you will be taken by force. And we will not hesitate to kill." The merchant glanced at one of them and said, "Lord Fingon I believe?"

His eyes flitted and he nodded.

"Ah. I do not believe I have seen a more womanish lord, if man or lord you are."

Fingon's fist clenched.

"Now, as I said," the merchant added languidly as he gestured to the boy and girl, "these two, Aeron and Gwyllion are their names, are thieves. They have never been caught and I believe baskets of stolen necklaces lie buried in their rubbishy hut."

Aeron coughed loudly and said pointedly, "It is very unbecoming of you to accuse the innocent."

"What do you mean boy,?" the merchant asked. He was like a cur. So disrespectful.

"Gwyllion never stole," Aeron said, casting a disdainful eye at the merchangt.

Gwyllion frowned and darted a glance at him.

A light flickered in the merchant's eye. "Never?"

Glaring at his sister, Aeron said, "Well, hardly ever."

"As I said, I will take these two for justice," said the merchant. "These scum have been thieving since the day they were born. Justice is needed."

[mark12_30]

Tharonwe's head turned as a groan escaped from the sleeping woman. He frowned; had he not wrapped her in silence? She should be lying quiet.

She groaned again. He scowled, probing her thoughts, and then recoiled in revulsion as she took a deep breath and sneezed, once, twice, three times, four times.

His eyes blazing with anger, he siezed as much of her cloak as easily came into hsi hands, wound it, and held it tightly over her mouth to quiet her. Half-tempted to snuff her life out, he resisted; she was more useful to him alive than dead. But the wretch would give away their hiding place with her pathetic sickness....

The large group, nearby, was busy discussing the fate of the two theives, and the girl's distant, muffled sneezing was lost amid the quarrel.

[Orual]

Ravion stood stiffly with his hand on the hilt of his sword, practically bristling with rage but attempting to keep his temper, or at least hold his tongue. What was the merchant thinking, returning here? Did he not know what the last few days had been? No, of course not. But Ravion did, and he resented the merchant for choosing this moment. It seemed appropriate, in a grim and darkly ironic way, that the merchant had arrived just after their swift downward spiral into misery had taken a jog upwards with Gwyllion regaining consciousness.

"Justice is needed," declared the merchant haughtily. He tilted his head back slightly, drawing himself taller. He did it so that he could look down his nose at Aeron and Gwyllion.

"Justice," Ravion echoed, with a rough and mirthless laugh. Everyone turned to look at him. He stared back at them for a moment, confused: he had not meant to speak aloud.

"Yes, Ranger, if that is what you truly are, justice," the merchant replied. "It should be an idea that comes easily to your kind. However, it seems to have passed you by. Ranger, indeed."

"I am a Ranger," Ravion shouted in return. Raefindan made a motion for him to control himself, but Ravion dismissed the plea with a wave of his hand. "A Ranger can tell the difference between mercy and justice, and between justice and revenge. You want revenge. I want justice. You should hope that you have earned some cause in your life for mercy, if you come a step closer to this boy."

What was he saying? The words came pouring out of his mouth. He often got into fights this way, but most often they came in taverns. He had not touched a drop of anything but water for months. What loosened his tongue? He felt a dizziness, a thickness in his head, fogging his thoughts. He did not regret his words, but awaited the merchant's response with some trepidation.

[Imladris]

Aeron swallowed and dug at the dirt with his toe. This was not going well. How typical that something like this had to happen right after Gwyll got better...

The merchant arched his brow. "Revenge is the sordid mud upon a vile creature's shoes," he whispered softly. "However, I am not a vile creature, but a wealthy merchant." A flicker of pride sprinted across his face. "However," he growled, "I have other merchant friends who have been robbed of valuable jewelry. They say the thief is tall and lanky, and that he has a mop of brown hair. Isn't that right, Glomer?" he asked sharply, jerking his head towards a plump merchant who was staring keenly at the two children.

He nodded, the barest implication of a double chin wagging its agreement as well.

"And you, Selmer?" the merchant asked again, pointing to an abysmally thin man. Selmer sniffed and said, "I am sure the boy took my ring..." He toyed with plain ring upon his finger. "This one suffers without his crowned mate," he whispered.

Aeron winced. The Queen Ring had been a beautifully decked Sapphire that had begged to be stolen...

"As you can see," said the merchant pleasantly, "this boy -- Aeron -- has made quite a name for himself. This is not a petty case of revenge, but indeed a matter of justice. And rest assured," he whispered, "I will have it."

[littlemanpoet]

"This is not a petty case of revenge, but indeed a matter of justice. And rest assured," whispered the merchant, "I will have it."

The leader of the men at arms moved his horse one step forward at the cue from the merchant. "Remove your hands from your weapons and step back from the two who are under arrest. If you do not, it will go badly for you."

Raefindan looked to Ravion, whose eyes were already narrowed, and he seemed like a spring ready to be unsprung. Spring - unsprung. This was no time for mulling over strange words. Raefindan looked to Erundil, who gave nothing away, watching the mercenary leader with half closed eyes. He seemed balanced, ready to move forward or back, depending on the need. Raefindan looked at his own feet. They were planted firm and flat, the stance of someone unused to war and battle, and rarely caught amid altercation. Erundil should be leading them now, not he. What would Erundil do if he were in my place? Fourteen to five, one of whom was a girl, another of whom was one untrained in anything but the use of his mind. So that meant that they were really outnumbered at least three to one.

"We will stand down," Raefindan said at length.

"No!" Aeron flared on him angrily.

"But we shall track you back to Minas Tirith, and we shall bring our complaint against you to the throne if we must."

The merchant grinned. "Then we shall have to make sure that you are unable to return in time. Take their horse."

"No!" Ravion shouted, and his hand flew back to his blade. The mercenaries had their blades out in the next moment, and seven of them had started moving forward.

"Ravion!" Erundil called. "It is no great matter. They can take Gond. It will change nothing." The mercenaries stopped.

Raefindan smiled. He liked this man's determination and courage. "Ravion, please remove your hand from your sword. We don't want to give them any excuses."

Ravion removed his hand from his sword and gave Gond a slap on the rump, sending the horse, toward the mecernaries in a startle.

"Treat Gond well, or it will go ill for you later. Be assured, I will know, and I will find you."

"There is no need for threats," the mercenary leader said. "We are honorable men. We will give your horse good care. Tell me where to leave it in Minas Tirith, and I shall do that." The merchant was glowering at the mercenary leader.

Ravion had caught the merchant's look. "If you were honorable as you say, you would not allow the theft of my horse." The man looked away in discomfiture. "But you may prove that you have some honor if you make sure that this scoundrel does not sell Gond from under your noses. Take him to the White Tree Inn. They will remember me there, and they will remember Mellonin. Give them that name. Will you do that?"

"I am a paid man," said their leader, "and this merchant gives us our orders. But I will see that this horse is kept as surety rather than as property. To the White Tree Inn he goes. You have the word of Benemal of Lebennin."

The merchant's brow raised. "Mellonin? That name is new." Then his eyes widened in sudden realization. "A member of your party is missing, though you have gained a new one. What has happened to the maidenly man?"

"It is none of your business," Raefindan said. "Take your captives and leave us. The quicker we can begin our chase." He gestured to Ravion and Erundil to back away from Aeron and Gwyllion. "Never fear, my friends, we will not be far behind."

"But you will be on foot!" Aeron growled, filled with pent up fury.

"I know not, but we will find a way. Farewell!" Benemal of Lebennin, thought Raefindan. Pieces of language from his past fell into place. Bene means good while mal means bad. One may suppose that this man has a little bit of both in him. They would have to hope that the good won out over the bad.

[Imladris]

A cold avalanch of anger tumbled in Aeron's stomach. Raefindan had let them go. Raefindan had said, with a nice big smile, that he didn't care what the merchants did to them. If he had cared he wouldn't have handed them over without a fight. What happened to friends sticking together? WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THIS NOBLENESS THEY WERE ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT? It all disappeared when there was a fight afoot.

Aeron ran his fingers through his hair and considered making a run for it. He glanced at Gwyllion, at her pale pointed face as she backed slowly away from the merchants. How could Raefindan consign her to a cold dank prison? He scowled at her and then flicked his face towards the merchants. She frowned in confusion, and then nodded as understanding lit upon her face.

Aeron shot a dirty look at Raefindan. He had expected Ravion to have pulled a stunt like this, not Raefindan. Raefindan...how could he? How could he have agreed with what Ravion said of nobility and then do this? He could feel the anger lick his insides like an angry flame as his hand balled in a fist.

As one of the mercenaries neared, Aeron shouted something that he would assuredly not have said if he was in a more favourable mood towards Raefindan, and barreled into the mercenary, knocking him to the ground. Catching his balance, Aeron spared a look towards Gwyllion who was sprinting across the landscape.

Without a backwards glance, he sped after her, until he was running neck and neck besider her. He could feel the hoofprints pound dully behind him, yet he was not expecting the weight that bore him into Gwyllion, thus making them both tumble to the ground.

Gwyllion shrieked, raking at the soldiers with her nails, flailing wildly as the men tried to bind her hands with thongs. Her shrieks turned into screams of terror, as blood began to ooze from the soldier's cheek.

Aeron wriggled from one of the mercenaries, and leaped to the back of the men binding Gwyllion, locking his throat in a strangle hold. "LET US GO!" he heard her shriek. "LET US GO!"

He could feel hands pry him from the back of the shoulder, hands tackling him to the ground. He struggled, but they pushed him onto his stomach, prying his arms until they nearly came from their sockets. Tight leather bound his wrists together.

He was jerked to his feet and dragged to one of the horses.

Ravion, Raefindan, and the other ranger had just stood there.

"HOW COULD YOU!" he screamed, still struggling. "HOW DARE YOU!" He wanted to hit Raefindan, hurt him. Why...Aeron had tried to tell them that they could fight, yet they had done nothing. They had just stood there, complacently watching them being led away to their dooms. He snorted. Did they think that the king would care about a thief? Did he think that the courts would plead them innocent when they would be swayed by the jingling purses of the merchant?

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan looked on sadly as Aeron and Gwyllion did what he too would have done in their place. Aeron did not understand. It would be a fight to the death, and no one's death was worth a courageous last stand, not for the sake of honor, freedom, nothing short of their very lives. Maybe that was wrong thinking, it occurred to Raefindan, but he had never found himself in such a spot before, and as sure as he was of what he valued, he wondered if he was really doing the right thing. He knew that he had to believe that there would be a way, short of foolhardy death. He turned to Ravion and Enduril.

"You two follow them to Minas Tirith. Get Gond back, of course, and make sure that they are treated with all the mercy and decency that captivity allows."

"What will you do?" Ravion frowned.

"I will stay here in hopes that Mellonin will be returned to us."

"I will stay with you," Ravion said. "Erundil can go to Minas Tirith and recover Gond. He can do better than I in speaking for Aeron and Gwyllion."

"I think not. He hardly knows them. They need someone who knows them."

"Then you go to Minas Tirith!"

"I am no Ranger to track them."

"You and Erundil!"

Raefindan put his hand to his chin, not sure which way to decide. Maybe Ravion should stay instead of himself. Maybe Erundil could go back to Minas Tirith alone. After all, he had not agreed to this quest of Mellonin's; Raefindan and Ravion had.

"Okay then, Ravion, you and I will stay here, and Erundil will go to Minas Tirith." Raefindan turned to the other Ranger. "Is that acceptable to you?"

Raefindan followed Erundil's eyes toward the mercenaries and merchants, who had Aeron and Gwyllion well in hand now, and were hoisting them onto horses in front of one mercenary each. Aeron looked back at Raefindan in rage.

I'm sorry, Aeron. I wish there was a better way. He kept his mouth closed and did not look away from the boy, but allowed his face to show his sorrow.

"I will follow them," Erundil said. "Maybe they think that justice is being done here, and maybe it is after a fashion, but all is not right here. I will do my best to set things aright. You have my word on that."

"My thanks, Erundil," said Raefindan as he watched the mercenaries and their captives begin to walk away back south.

[mark12_30]

They crested a low hill, and halted; their minds had been tightly closed per Amroth's orders, and they did not expect to see the party of fourteen on the horizon. The elves held up one hand each.

"Seventeen men, my lord, " whispered Taitheneb, his mind still shut tight. The men and ladies pressed their horses closer to hear the elves' whispers.

Amroth's lips tightened; he squinted and stared, but to no avail. He glanced at Erebemlin, who shook his head. "Twelve armed men, four unarmed, and one girl; sixteen horses, " whispered the taller elf, an edge of reproach in his voice. Taitheneb aquiesced.

"And there, " pointed Erebemlin, "Three more men. Two stand still, the third begins to follow the riders."

Taitheneb nodded again, chagrined that he had missed the three men on foot.

"One of them, " continued Erebemlin, "has chestnut hair."

"Chestnut hair!" said Amroth.

Erebemlin nodded. "Yes, my lord. Glossy and red."

"Does he grieve?"

Erebemlin, somewhat taken aback, turned to study the distant figures. "His back is to me. He turns... His face is sad."

Amroth's eyes blazed. "He is bereft. I know this man. Take me to him quickly!"

"My lord?" Erebemlin asked even as he turned his mount to obey. Minds still closed tight, the three elves surged forward. The exhausted band followed as best they could. When Bella and Argeleafa's horses lagged, Liornung and Ædegard kept an eye on them. The three elves and Nethwador arrived at the two walkers first. In the distance, the third man hesitated, staring back over his shoulder.

Amroth rode straight to the redhaired man. "I grieve with you, friend. Your loss is deep."

The redhaired man tore his gaze from the elves. "I beg your pardon?"

"I share your grief!"

The other, brownhaired man glanced at the elves, and nodded. "Yes, our loss is deep. Can you aid us?"

Erebemlin looked at Amroth. "What loss do you speak of, my lord?"

"Yes; which one?" asked the redhaired man. "There've been a few, if you don't mind my saying so."

Ædegard and Liornung came into sight, and behind them Bella and Argeleafa.

The brownhaired man looked up at Amroth, and said, "If not for your air-- you look like..."

Amroth ignored him and spoke to the redhaired man. "You search for the one you love. She has vanished into the wild, and you know not where. And your heart finds no rest without her."

The two men nodded, but the brownhaired man spoke again. "You look much like her."

Amroth ignored him again. "The love you seek-- her fate is woven with mine, is it not?"

"Excuse me?" replied the redhaired man. "Perhaps you might give me a name?"

Amroth dismounted and walked towards the red haired man.

The redhaired man said, "You look like Mellonin."

The sister of Mellondu! thought Amroth.

A sharp cry from the brownhaired man brought them all up short. "It must be he! We have found him-- and lost her!" Amroth found himself face to face with the brownhaired man.

"Ravion, " said the redhaired man, "Wait. Let him speak--"

"They are as like as twins! It cannot be otherwise! The quest is ended, yet to whom do we give the prize?" said Ravion, with a mix of woe and fury taking Amroth's shoulder. "O Raefindan, I am a fool!"

"Unhand him!" cried Erebemlin, wrenching Ravion away from Amroth. Ravion was too anguished to care, and turned to Erebemlin with such a look of woe he won Taitheneb's pity.

Amroth nodded. Raefindan-- Red-Haired Man.

Ravion looked up at Ædegard, Argeleafa, and Liornung. "Mellondu rides with Rohirrim, and comes back home. Had we but waited! And now she is captive!"

So he knows my young blacksmith friend Mellondu. Well enough. But he was not in my dream. Amroth turned to Raefindan. "Captive?"

He nodded. "Alas, yes. And so are our beloved thieves."

Amroth's brow knit. "Thieves? That is no loss."

"They were bound to me, " replied Ravion, "and we failed them."

Amroth met his gaze.

"I failed them, " said Ravion.

"The point is, " said Raefindan, "that they were part of us, and bound to us, and now are lost to us; they were taken from us against our will."

Amroth's eyes hardened. "Then they will be restored to you."

Ædegard looked at the troop on the horizon. "Six of us against twelve armed men?"

Taitheneb spoke. "Five men and three elves, against fifteen men."

Bella and Argeleafa exchanged glances; what would they do in a fight?

"Three elves?" asked Ravion. "I see two elves and four men..."

"They're getting further away as we speak, " replied Liornung.

Amroth turned to the ladies. "Your horses. These two men need mounts. We will return to you quickly." Taitheneb and Erebemlin swiftly loosened swords and strung bows even as Argeleafa slipped off of her horse. Bella hesitated. "Hurry, " Argeleafa said. Bella slid off.

Wide-eyed, Raefindan strung his bow, and muttered under his breath; Ravion had given him six arrows; that meant Ravion was short. Raefindan loosened his dagger. Even as he realized he did not know what to do in battle with a horse or without one, Bella was handing him the reins.

The two ladies stood alone on the plains as the eight riders thundered southwest.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

The plains felt lonely and seemed eerie with the two ladies standing together, stranded alone as the men went off to save some stranger. The situation had been completely lost on the confused Bellyn, who felt utterly swamped in all the events that moved so quickly from one to another. Her jaw remained dropped, her eyes remained wide, and her surprise remained written on her face. Their companions had completely deserted the two ladies. The distaste for how quickly her companions would drop them off could be clearly seen in her horrified hazel eyes.

And Argeleafa! "Hurry," she had said to Bellyn. At first, Bellyn only obliged and gave her horse up willingly. Now the Gondorian girl's formerly pale cheeks flushed red in anger at the word of her Rohirric friend. Did she not also feel anguish at being left behind? All because we are women...Bellyn thought bitterly.

The two women began to walk slowly in the direction that the men had taken. Bellyn kicked the ground harshly with each step, and Argeleafa gazed loftily at the dust flying upwards, saying naught. Bellyn's brows furrowed in unnecessary fury, and if Bellyn had been less offended by the action of her friends she might have seen the folly in her anger. However, the Gondorian lady could only be cured of her upset heart by the patience of a friend...

"Leafa, are you not also angry that we were left behind?" Bellyn finally murmured when she felt as if her voice could stay at a controlled level. Her dark hair snapped gently at her face, and the soft breeze brought Bellyn's inner fire to a dull roar with its cool touch. Bellyn looked up at Argeleafa, who thought on Bellyn's words for a moment before answering.

"What would we have done to help if we had gone in the place of two men, Bella?" Argeleafa asked, and Bellyn frowned. She is right...Bellyn realized quickly. Argeleafa continued with the answer, "We would have helped little."

"I know," Bellyn replied softly. The words escaped her lips sullenly. She did not like being wrong. She liked it even less when she realized her wrong in front of another. "I only feel angered, I suppose, at being so readily left behind."

"They will return for us, when all is finished," Argeleafa attempted to comfort and quell Bellyn's worries.

"But we were so quickly dropped in favor of those who Amroth does not know. A pair of thieves. It is not done," Bellyn argued. She felt badly for placing such angry weights on Argeleafa's shoulders, but the others had left them. "But...I do see the folly of my thoughts. My words were rash and I was quick to act as the judge of my friends. You will not speak of my former anger to Liornung? Or Amroth? Or even Ædegard and our Elf-friends? I feel ashamed..."

[mark12_30]

The fog melted away.

Horses, running, running; weariness; anger; wrath; despair.

You have abandoned us, my sister and I. Faithless, faithless. You are without honor. Beasts! You care nothing for us. Your words seemed fair, but they were truly foul. Liars! You are no friends! Faithless! Faithless!

The girl cried out in her dreams again With a curse, Tharonwe covered her mouth again; but the smaller elf turned his head even as they galloped towards the mercenaries.

"Despiccable wench!" spat Tharonwe under his breath. Did he have time to move himself and his prisoner before they returned?

[alaklondewen]

Elvish reactions and arrival to the scene.

[littlemanpoet]

"Despicable wench!" spat Tharonwe under his breath. Did he have time to move himself and his prisoner before they returned? Better yet, did he have time to capture the two women the Elves and Men had unthinkingly left behind? All was at a gamble now. Much was at stake. Tharonwe spared not another moment.

"Guard this one. I shall bring back two more." He ordered four of his slaves to accompany him. They hated leaving the swamp, but they were at his mercy. He promised them food, the very special kind they craved.

It was such an easy thing to catch up to the two human women, no matter how fast they walked. They were not Elves. How stupid the males had been. They did not think the way Tharonwe did. He approached them from behind, silently, and was upon them. The riders on both sides were now a good mile away, and had no thought for these two. Much to their regret later, to be sure.

He pulled out his pipe and two darts, dipped their points in one of his pouches, and blew twice. They both received the darts in the neck, and fell without a sound.

"Pick them up and carry them back, two to a body. Quickly!"

[Imladris]

"Assaulting me was not the smartest thing you could have done, boy," the merchant said pleasantly. "You wouldn't want to be known as a murderous thief now, would you?"

"I didn't try to murder you," said Aeron tartly. He glowered sullenly at the horse's mane. "I was trying to get away so I wouldn't languish in jail for the rest of my short life."

"Well, maybe you will learn," the merchant hissed softly, "not to go stealing other people's jewels."

"One must survive," Aeron said hotly.

"Better to die in the dirt then than to take up a life of thievery."

Aeron wanted to shout at him, tell the merchant that such nobleness was viewed a bit differently on the other side of the fence, that he wouldn't feel like that if he saw his sister miserable with hunger.

But the merchant would not understand. None of them understood.

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan

As they galloped after the merchant and mercenaries, Raefindan watched the back of the man who was Mellonin's brother. His mind whirled as he tried to hold onto reins and bow at the same time. I grieve with you, friend. Your loss is deep. Which loss? You search for the one you love. She has vanished into the wild, and you know not where. And your heart finds no rest without her. Angela? She's dead! The love you seek-- her fate is woven with mine, is it not? How could her fate be woven with Mellonin's brother? And what was he doing with Elves? And how did this man know him? How could he? Why did he act like a king? Was he?

As they neared the mercenaries, his questions took a back seat to a more pressing one. How am I going to fight these mercenaries?

Ædegard

Ædegard eyed the new men. They were not Rohirrim. The red haired man seemed akin to the Rohirrim; maybe he was a northman. The two others seemed to be Gondorian; they handled their horses and weapons with ease. The red haired man was no fighter or rider. It was easy to see from how he handled horse and weapons. Ædegard had never been in battle either, too young for the War; but all young men of Rohan were given training in arms, especially those who lived in Edoras. Ædegard would be ready, and would show himself adept. He would die well if it came to that. It was the way of his folk.

Jorje

The pack was changing again! Red man was still lead dog now, but for how long? That other pack had taken away the two mancubs and red man had not even fought them! They needed cubs, or the pack would suffer! But this new man was a strong one! All these one toed, big dogs! He was going to yell, but the one toe dogs all had their own lead dogs. All the men got on a one toe dog! Would one try to get on his back? No. The females were left walking. Chase or stay? Chase of course! Jorje ran after the one toe dogs. They were fast! They were chasing that other pack. Were they going to try to get the mancubs back? He would help. with his voice. He would yell! And with his teeth. He would bite, but only if one of them fell from a one toe dog. Those toes were hard and could hurt his mouth.

[Orual]

As Ravion rode with Raefindan and the others, he sorely regretted Gond's absence. He was a good enough rider to ride any horse he was given, but a man grows accustomed to his horse, especially when he had ridden the same horse for so very long. He missed Gond.

No, it was something else that he missed.

He let his gaze drift from his destination over to the young man. Mellonin's brother. His heart felt a pang as he glanced at him. How he had failed her! He turned his head away quickly, lest Mellonin's brother could see the pain that twisted his expression.

Mellonin, he thought, hoping that somehow she could hear him. I have found him, and lost you. You placed your trust in the wrong man. I am sorry. I will not, for your sake, let any harm come to your brother...and I will find you.

[mark12_30]

Amroth slowed to a canter. He motioned to Taitheneb to ride to his left, and Erebemlin to his right. He waved Nethwador, Ædegard, Liornung, and the strangers behind them.

He spoke to Taitheneb. "Strengthen the prisoners and guide them." Then he turned to Erebemlin. "Strive with the hireling's commander. I will strive with the greedy one."

He called to the men behind him. "Be cold, and stern; stay well back."

The three elves set their faces toward the troops on the horizon, and their pace slowed to a slow, deliberate canter. Their faces were stony, their eyes like ice. The men exchanged glances behind them. Raefindan 's horse broke into a fast unsteady trot, and he slipped and slithered til Ravion hissed at him. "Sit, squeeze, and hold. Drive him into the bit!" Raefindan struggled, watching Ravion's horse, and tried to copy him, but his horse only slowed further.

"Pull his chin in and stiffen your back, " Ravion persisted. "MAKE him do it!"

What on earth this had to do with war and fighting, Raefindan could not imagine, but in desperation, he clamped down on the reins and thumped the horse with his heels. The horse surged forward, and he hauled backwards on the reins; gagging, the horse cantered with his ears pinned flat.

"Not quite so tight, " Ravion hissed. But they were approaching the mercenaries, and Ravion forgot Raefindan as he watched the elves.

The two farsighted elves watched the mercenaries. They were satisfied to see fear growing in the eyes of the soldiers; Erebemlin bore down on the mind of their leader til the leader's will all but buckled, and his men could see the fear in his eyes, and their own hearts quailed.

The merchant gestured to his two friends, and they drew off to one side.

Taitheneb and Erebemlin, riding with no bridle or bit, each nocked an arrow; Ravion wrapped his reins through his last two fingers of his left hand, and managed to nock an arrow and still control his horse.

That is something I know how to do, thought Raefindan, except-- I've never done it on horseback. And how do I make the horse keep cantering while I do it? Imitating Ravion, he threaded his reins around his last two fingers. HIs horse broke into a trot. He bounced hard, and bit his tongue.

Desperate, he stood in the stirrups, and suddenly was comfortable. Adding a tangle of mane to his reins, he nonetheless drew an arrow from his quiver, and then tried to nock it, wondering how he would untangle his bow from the reins and the mane. They were almost upon the mercenaries. He clenched his teeth tight, and swallowed the blood from his tongue. The arrow was nocked. The company slowed to a trot, and then to a walk.

The dozen mercenaries gazed white-eyed at the two elves. Liornung and Ædegard had drawn their swords; Raefindan's bow-hand had come untangled in time for him to raise his bow when Ravion did. Raefindan, taking the elves' lead, aimed at the leader. Ravion aimed at the man holding Gwyllion, then at the man holding Aeron.

"Give us the theives, and you will live, " said Erebemlin.

"You'll pay for this, stammered one of the soldiers, but the leader silenced him with a hand. "Do not incite their magic!" he said in a trembling voice.

With a deft twist, the boy-thief wrenched himself free of his captor and awkwardly jumped off the horse. The girl-thief did not have the strength to do so. Liornung rode to Gwyllion's side. His blade flashed, and he cut her bonds; but at the flash of the blade, she screamed "Aeron!" Liornung had nicked her skin. The boy yelled "Gwyllion! Come to me!"

She ran to him, weeping. Raefindan's horse snorted, and shied. Ravion rode forward, and snatched Gond's lead from the man who held it; Gond jumped forward, and Ravion held on. The two horses lurched off to the side.