Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[Imladris]

Aeron cuffed Raefindan’s hand that grasped his belt but, considering how much trouble he was already in, stopped and flashed a grin at him. No chance of escape…drat. Apparently Mellonin had a moonstruck brother who fancied himself to be an elf lord. Aeron chuckled: a mortal pretending to be an elf. It was ludicrous. He wondered if the brother knew any elvish.

With exuberant glee, Mellonin asked Ravion to accompany them and, giving his word that he would help her, Aeron knew that he would keep his promise, which would therefore help him because it would put him far out of his pursuer’s clutches. Gwyillion, he thought, could use a bit of excitement in her life. He sighed. Every since they had quit stealing together, she had been rather lonely at home.

Thinking of Gwyllion brought to mind the frown that had creased Ravion’s brow when he had mentioned her. Sweat pricked his brow as Aeron considered that Ravion might not want to have a young woman in tow. He could still find himself shackled to a cell and Gwyllion could scrounge around as best she could. He shuddered.

He looked at the merry group: one young woman, one so-called honorable ranger, and one foreigner who had shocking red hair. Aeron narrowed his eyes at him. Who knew what his intentions were? Banging the table with his fist, he said, “Ahem. As you all know this ranger --” he cast a baleful glance at him -- “offered to have me bind myself to him which I consented to do if he took my sister -- my older sister -- with him. He has not yet answered the question so I would like to suggest a few things. One woman with two young men (three if I go along). That sounds rather…” he paused, and raised his eyebrows, nodding his head solemnly. He let the sentence drop, sure that the others would catch his meaning. “Ahem. That’s where my sister would be rather useful. But she could also help cook --” never mind the fact that she doesn’t know one herb from another and that the food was usually bland -- “ wash the dishes” -- she’ll be more careful about getting every bit of food off since they’ll be traveling in company -- "and do anything else that needs to be done.” He looked at them and added, “She’s not really that bad --leastways, I don’t think so.”

[Orual]

Ravion sat in stunned silence as Mellonin surged around the room, laughing and talking a blue streak. Would that he had heeded that feeling! It had transformed from a slight shiver to a lightning that filled his body, making the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. Guide? Leader? What had he gotten himself into?

Eventually he realized that his face wasn't betraying his true emotions, but was rather giving Mellonin the idea that he was backing out. He forced a smile onto his face and clapsed the girl's outstretched hand into his. "You have my service. If I can help you to find your brother, I will do so."

As Mellonin accepted graciously and excitedly, Ravion stopped listening, and, while he continued to smile, seriously doubted that he had done the wisest thing. The right thing, probably, the kind thing, the chivalrous thing, and most likely what a Ranger should do, but the wisest thing? He thought not. He was too tired to be tromping all over Middle-earth looking for a crazy blacksmith who thought he was an elf-lord.

But there was another voice inside him telling him that this was the opportunity that he had been looking for. Something to replace the lost battles of the War. A cause. He battled with himself for a moment, his reason and his hang-over arguing to stay here, and his Ranger's spirit telling him to go with Mellonin, and to put everything he had into finding her lost brother. During this fight, he suddenly realized that Aeron had been talking. Luckily his subconscious, along with continuing his smile, and been picking up what the boy had said, so he could respond.

"First off, I'm fairly sure that there's no 'if you come'," Ravion said wryly. "If I go, you go, or you go to jail. I can see in your face that you're opting for the former course of action. Second, you're already getting me on your bad side with your insinuations." Sighing, he turned to Mellonin and Raefindan. "What are your thoughts? I am loathe to bring his sister. Another person will slow us down. But I am not the one who desires haste. Mellonin, I would defer to you. What would you wish?"

[mark12_30]

Mellonin considered Ravion's question, and then turned to Aeron, and sobered.

"A scoundrel you may be, " she said thoughtfully; "but it seems to me that your love for your sister is your best virtue; hopefully not your only virtue. She is also a thief?"

The question took Aeron by surprise, and all three saw the flicker of indecision that crossed his face. He began to protest, but she held up her hand.

"I see, " Mellonin said. "In that case, she will be under the same bond as you; but more: if you misbehave, she will be turned in with you. And if she misbehaves, you will be turned in with her. Agreed?"

[Orual]

"I think we are agreed," Ravion said abruptly, raising an eyebrow as though to challenge Aeron to disagree. "Even if we are not, that will have to wait for later. If we are to move, we need to prepare. There is much to do before we leave."

He pulled out his pack and started digging through it, making a mental inventory and checklist: what he had with him, and what was still needed. He had a good store of herbs, both for cooking and for medicinal purposes, though he'd need to restock on a few things. Bandages he was sorely in need of. He still had provisions for himself to last nearly a month, but split four ways it would not last nearly so long. Ravion himself was trained to eat very little if the occasion called for it, but he was fairly sure that his companions were not.

"Firstly we will need food," he said, still rooting through his pack. "Mellonin, could you arrange for that? I do not know how long we will be gone, but better safe than sorry: get a fair amount. Something lightweight and easy to pack compactly. We'll need camping gear. I sleep well enough under the stars, and I hope the rest of you do as well, but I hope that you all have blankets and the like. Raefindan, please see to that. Aeron--"

He broke off. "Aeron, come with me. We'll obtain some medical supplies. Shall we meet back here in an hour or two?"

[mark12_30]

"Food for travel. Yes, sir." Mellonin turned on her heel and hurried towards the stairway door, but then stopped abruptly and turned to look at Morien.

"What d'ye tarry for?" he snorted, and with a wave of his barkeep's rag shooed her out the door. "Wait! Mellonin, get back here."

She ran back to the bar. He thumbed seven coins into his palm, and handed them to her. "That's this week's. Now go... Raefindan!"

Mellonin curtseyed, thanked him (it was an advance) and ran upstairs, siezed her cloak and basket; then from under her mattress took her two weeks saved pay, and then ran back to the door, but stopped, returned, and rummaged in the pile in the corner til she found Mellon's backpack and her own shoulder-bag. Thus prepared, she ran down the stairs and headed for the market.

Back in the bar, Morien thumbed seven more coins into own palm, motioned Raefindan over, and gave him the same advance in pay.

"Thank you, sir, " was Raefindan's heartfelt reply.

"There are extra blankets in the back of the tack room in the stable, under a pile of saddles. They're old and thin and have holes, so take two each. I can't spare the good ones; wear your cloaks outside 'em and you'll be warm enough. And I can't spare any camping gear but if I were you, I'd go and ask some of the retired Ithilien rangers if they can spare any camping gear. Old Damrod comes to mind, three doors beyond the fifth gate." Raefindan sped out the door and headed for the fifth gate.

Ravion looked up to see Morien approaching. He was not a small man, and his face was not smiling. "You'll guide them well," Morien growled.

Ravion returned his gaze quietly, waiting to see whether it was a compliment or a threat.

Morien placed Ravion's half-forgotten mug of frothing ale in front of him. "Here is what I owe you, " the barkeep said. "And now, if you don't mind--" Morien nudged the bowl of soupy pebbles, and then patted the bag.

Ravion turned to Aeron. "You can give him the stolen coin willingly and peacefully. Or, we can search you for it. Which shall it be?"

[Imladris]

Being searched, or handing the coins over willingly. Neither was a pleasant option. Aeron grimaced, rolled his eyes, and stalked towards the table where he emptied several pockets. Brass coins and silver coins tumbled to the table. Aeron leaned his elbow on the table, raised his eyebrow at Morien and Ravion and said, "There. That's all of it -- probably a little extra as well."

"More than likely stolen from some poor other victim," Morien muttered, sweeping the coins into the empty pouch.

Aeron nodded. "More than likely." He grinned at the Inn-keeper.

Morien, muttering something about "young miscreants" went towards the kitchen. Aeron turned, glanced at Ravion, and said, "Where shall we go, Lord Ravion?" He bowed deeply, a small grin hanging about his lips.

[littlemanpoet]

The sun had set and still Mellon, or Amroth, as he seemed to prefer right now, drove them northward. Ædegard did not mind the starry night, but he knew that their horses needed rest, as did they.

"It is late," he declared. "We should make a camp and ride on at dawn."

Amroth the blacksmith looked to Ædegard as one pulled from a dream to the mundane.

"It is as you say. Let us keep an eye out for a likely place."

"One with a good inn and a fine draft would be well," Ædegard replied, "but it will not be found this night."

They stopped beside one of the many streams running across the plains of Rohan, lined with willows and brush. The stream would be easily forded in the morning. Ædegard made quick work of a fire with his flint, while Bellyn and Liornung saw to the horses. Soon they sat around a merry little fire, chewing on some of the fare they had brought with them.

Soon they were full, and settle for the night. Despite Liornung's penchant for talk late into the night, Ædegard was weary enough and soon fell into dreamless sleep.

Next morning they were awake with the dawn, broke their fast, and were on their way before the sun was an hour past dawn in a clear blue sky. Spring was in the air; they saw patches of melting snow here and there in vales hidden from the sourtherly rays of the sun.

"How far is it form Edoras to Lorien, then?" Ædegard asked, "and how many days before we arrive there?"

[Orual]

"Where shall we go, Lord Ravion?" Aeron asked insolently. Ravion glared at him for a moment, then grabbed him by the collar. He told Morien where he was headed in case Mellonin or Raefindan needed him, or if he was out later than he anticipated, and started out.

They garnered more than a few stares, the short, stocky Ranger dragging along the taller Aeron along the main streets of Gondor. Finally Aeron shook him off and followed sullenly, but of his own volition. Ravion led him down the back paths to a small, dark shop.

Stepping out of the rain-fresh air into the shop was something of an olfactory shock. The shop smelled strongly of incense and herbs, underlayered with pipe smoke. In the far right corner of the shop a wizened old lady was humming to herself and binding some lambs' ear together. The old woman very much matched her business. Her clothes were all jewel tones: emeralds and deep ruby reds and sapphire blues. Her silver hair was bound up in an amber scarf, tied at the nape of her neck with two tails hanging down past her shoulders. Her fingers, as they bound the lambs' ear, were quick and skillful: this was not the first time she had done this. Her brown eyes sparkled in the light of the oil lamps she kept by her desk.

Ravion cleared his throat politely, and the old woman whirled around defensively, then broke out into a smile when she saw the Ranger.

"Ravion!" she exclaimed, and, leaving her work, hurried across the shop to embrace him. He accepted her embrace warmly, for the woman was like a second mother to him. "What are you doing back in town, child? I thought you were off in Rohan hunting those orcs."

"I found the orcs and returned," he said, a smile on his face. "I've come to buy some more herbs, and some of your bandages. They work quite well."

"Your line of work calls for them altogether too much," she muttered. Ravion rolled his eyes good-naturedly. They had had this conversation before. She saw his gesture and grumbled a little, then put her hands on her hips. "Well, are you going to introduce me to your friend, or not?"

At first Ravion didn't know who she meant. Then he followed her eyeline to Aeron. His friend? He almost choked. "This is Aeron, my..." He couldn't quite think of the right word. "He's in my service for now. Aeron, this is Lothwen, the most renowned and skillful herbalist in all of Gondor."

"Oh, come now," Lothwen retorted, but her face glowed with pride. "That honor belongs to the King, and you know it. I do what I can with what I have. Aeron, 'tis a pleasure to meet you. Serve Ravion well--he'll requite it." She gave the boy a maternal kiss on the cheek, which Aeron accepted somewhat awkwardly. "Now, Ravion, what can I get for you? Oh, yes, bandages. My bandages, I'll tell you in the modesty of honor, Aeron, are the finest in Gondor. I have a trick to them. I won't tell you what it is, but it involves lambs' ear and bloodmoss, I'll tell you that much. Stops the flow of blood right up, and if you apply this balm to it, leaves no room for infection!" She bustled around the shop, gathering an armful of greenish bandages, all wrapped tightly in little rolls. The sight would have been slightly unnerving, the green of the bandages, had Ravion not known that the green came from the combination of herbs that Lothwen used in the making.

"Bandages for you, as well as more balm, because I know if you've run out of bandages you've run out of balm. Here's some extra bloodmoss in case you're cut somewhere where a bandage would be difficult to wrap. Here's that--what's the name of it? oh, I can't recall--it's good for dehydration. You don't drink enough, unless you're at a tavern. Oh, don't look at me that way, boy, you know it's true. You shouldn't drink so much. The bottle will be the death of you yet!"

"Lothwen, how much do I owe you?" Ravion asked quickly, before she could gain too much momentum in her speech.

The old woman's face softened. "Nothing, boy. Just keep safe." She patted him on the cheek with her soft, dry hand, and put everything in a sack. "I can tell you're off somewhere, Ravion, and that it might be more dangerous even than your last few missions. You don't need to pay me, as long as you promise me you'll stay safe. However, if you come back with so much as a scrape, you'll owe me every penny this lot ought to cost!"

Ravion smiled and kissed Lothwen on the forehead. "I'll do my best," he said, taking the sack. "I'll see you when I get back, Lothwen."

"See that you do!" Lothwen called as Ravion and Aeron left. "And remember: one scrape, and you owe me every penny!"

Ravion laughed as he left. "She's a character," he said softly.