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Old 01-06-2007, 01:34 PM   #34
littlemanpoet
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Join Date: Jan 2002
Location: The Edge of Faerie
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littlemanpoet is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.littlemanpoet is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
Ædegard & Raefindan

Ædegard considered Aeron's words. The women were in trouble of some kind, and Mellondu's trouble was for the Elves to look over, not the Men. It was sooth that Erebemlin and Taitheneb could meet any threat or trouble with some kind of answer, especially since that Tharonwë was far away. But it had been Tharonwë who had brought out the harsh and narrow sight of the Elves: they would have let Leafa, Mellonin, and Bellyn be killed; and Gwyllian had been killed.... all because Amroth, the Elf lord, was more important than three women. It angered him. But you have been charged to see this through to the end. Ædegard sighed. So it was. That charge, which had come by means of Bêthberry, still held. Word was bond and law. He had sworn no oath, but it did not matter: the charge had laid hold of him, and will he or nill he, Ædegard knew that he had to see it through to the end, and could not leave Mellondu.

"I must stay with Mellondu," Ædegard simply.

"What of Leafa?" Aeron queried sharply.

"I am charged to stay with Mellondu."

"But is she not your betrothed? Have you not sworn yourself to her?" Aeron asked.

"Aye, and I will not gainsay that oath, nor have I; we shall be wedded, but that must wait until this task is done."

"She may be dead by then," Aeron said.

Ædegard had not thought of that. He sighed heavily, feeling the pull in two different directions from oath and charge. "I have not sworn to save her life at all costs, only to marry her should these matters work out well. May your words not come true."

"Let it rest, Aeron," said Raefindan. "I too must stay with Mellondu, for Amroth is housed within him, and somehow I hold the memory of Imrazor, and I'm convinced that whatever destiny is wrapped up in Amroth has to do with me; so I must stay the course, as it is said in arenas of ill repute back where I come from."

"I do not know all of what you said," said Aeron, "but I understand enough of it."

"Will you stay with us, Aeron, or is Gwyllian calling you away to follow the women?" asked Raefindan.

Jorje

He was in the great high places. He trotted evenly, nose to the smelly ground. He was hungry, for food was too quick on four feet so far.

Remember Leaf woman and Dark woman and Man woman.

Jorje Tirril smelled them afresh in his mind's nose. He had not come across their trail yet. But river woman had sent him this way. So they must be here somewhere.

Sniff out the strangers and tell the women if they be friend or fiend. Sniff for the bad elf, the one who ran the eermy ones back in the swamp.

He was sniffing a stranger now. It was not like most strangers he had smelled. Not of the city, not of the farm. It was a very little bit like the eermy swamp men, but not eermy and not swamp. But two foot. Two foots without all the things they kept about them.

There he was! He was smaller than most two foots. He smelled more earthy than a farmer. His hands were busy like a two foot. He had a sharpedge. Jorje winced, feeling the cut on his tongue when once he had curiously licked a sharpedge. He was cutting with it. Jorje sniffed: not food bone, but tree bone. Twofoots did such strange things.

May the aroo go with you wherever you go. Be witty and sniff well, and may your paws be whole and may your legs run fast at need. Now go!

Jorje got down on his belly and put his nose between his front paws, and watched the twofoot, sniffing all the while. The twofoot looked up.
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