Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[Nurumaiel]

Both Liornung and Ædegard started when Amroth began to sway, but they did not ride to his side. Rather they dismounted and went on foot to him. Ædegard reached up to Amroth and helped him dismount, a frown creasing his brow. Liornung shook his head. "Master Amroth, you may not desire sleep but sleep you must," he said. "Come, sit down a moment and regain your strength."

If Amroth had desired to protest he did not. Ædegard firmly but gently led him to where he could sit and Bellyn said, "Might I get you a cup of water, sir?"

"Yes, do," Liornung said before Amroth could reply. "And while you do that, Miss Bellyn, you might see if Miss Argeleafa is anywhere about." He turned to Ædegard with another shake of his head. "I am worried that her father will expressly forbid her to go," he said. "In truth that foul creature would have never been slain if it had not been that Lady Éowyn went against her uncle's wishes, as you say, Ædegard, but disobedience is not good in itself, though it was made that some good should come out of her wrong. I would not desire Miss Argeleafa to disobey her father's request." He fell to thinking and soon Bellyn returned with the water, which she gave to Amroth. He thanked her but did not drink. Liornung did not notice this, however, for the young Rohirric girl was coming towards them, leading a sleek roan horse.

When she reached them she gazed about shyly, and Liornung took her hand eagerly. "It is a pleasure to see you will ride with us, Miss Argeleafa," he said. "I will not ask what your father said; your presence answers that question. I will instead introduce you to my companions. Ædegard and Bellyn you have already seen, though I have not given their names. This Amroth." He led her over to the one spoken of, who stood to his feet and bowed to her. A blush sprang to her cheeks and she curtseyed, murmuring, "I am honored, sir."

"This lad," Liornung continued, "is one I do not know, though something tells me he shall be travelling with us."

"I know him already," Argeleafa replied.

"Ah, do you? But I do not. Introduce him to me, if you will."

"I do not know his name... that is, I know what he is called among the wayfarers but it is an ugly name that I would not give to him." Her eyes softened as she looked at the lad. "They call him Pig."

A look of disbelief crossed Liornung's face and he shook his head in disgust. "Alas for the sorrows of the world," he said. "What a cruel name. There is a lack of love amongst those wayfarers, I gather." He sighed. "But now then, Miss Argeleafa, do sit down. Let us all sit and talk and sing and tell tales and become better acquainted. We have a day to pass, or so I believe. I trust, Amroth, you have decided to rest this day?"

[mark12_30]

The wild boy still had not dismounted. Staring at the strangers, he rode to Amroth's back and halted his lanky chestnut, and together they stood guard behind Amroth.

With a bemused nod at Liornung, Amroth sat back down. "Yes, I will rest. It seems I must." He reached for the water that Bellyn had brought for him, and drank. Then he looked at the long, sweet grass, weighing its softness against the harshness of the dreams. The sun was shining, and the rolling ground gave some shelter from the cold wind. He gave in, pulled his cloak around him and lay down on his back.

The boy slid off his chestnut horse, eyeing the others. Chattering in his strange tongue, he snatched Amroth's wrist and pulled, dragging Amroth several feet. Liornung stepped towards Amroth, but with a squeal the boy stepped between them. Liornung started to protest as the boy burst into a frenzy of motion. He pushed the boy away, and then Liorning saw the blood running down his own hand and arm.

Liornung gaped at the blood while the boy sprang onto his chestnut, drummed his heels into the horse's side, turned him towards Liornung and tried to ride him down. Liornung lurched aside, putting his back to Argeleafa and slapping at the chestnut as he reached for his weapon. By now Ædegard was by Bellyn's side drawing his knife.

"What happened?" said Ædegard.

"He bit me!" said Liornung.

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung had drawn the little knife he kept at his belt. He generally did not like to carry a weapon but the road had often proved dangerous and it had been useful. His first thought was to step in front of Argeleafa so she would come to no harm; Ædegard would take care of Bellyn.

What was the lad doing? It had been strange how he had begun dragging Amroth across the ground, it had been stranger how he had attack Liornung, and it was unthinkable that he was on his horse now, trying to ride over them.

Argeleafa touched his sleeve as the boy turned his horse to them again. "Please," she murmured, "don't hurt him. I don't know what he's doing but he's a wayfarer."

Yes, the lad was a wayfarer. He was most likely distrustful of people because people were distrustful of him. Yet Liornung had never known a wayfarer who would attack for that reason. He did not wish to hurt the lad himself, and for Argeleafa's sake, who would naturally feel some devotion to a member of the wayfarer band, he would be even more careful.

The boy had seemed to be considering what to do next, but he had urged his horse on again and he swept by them again. Ædegard had taken Bellyn's arm and pulled her back as he himself leapt aside, and Liornung made a gesture that Argeleafa should stay back. "Ædegard," he said, trying to speak in a tone of voice so Ædegard might hear but the boy would not. "I would not harm the boy, if possible. We should try to get him off his horse. He will be less dangerous on foot, unless it is proved he is armed. And you, Bella, must stay out of harm's way."

[alaklondewen]

“Welcome, mellyn,” Erebemlin rose and greeted the two golden-haired elves as they entered his talan from the trunk of the mellorn. “Tell us what you have learned.” Celegtâl stood in the corner, behind the host, with his arms folded over his chest.

The first ellon, Caranduin, stepped forward and spoke, “We have seen them, Silmaethor. Their number is not many as was feared…only twelve. They have stopped approximately three leagues from our border.”

“Yes, they will wait for nightfall before they try to enter.” Erebemlin turned his back on Caranduin and sat on a small bench that was covered in a material the same golden shade that colored the leaves of the tree.

Now it was Taitheneb’s turn to come forward. “Why are they coming? The war is over. They have no business with us.”

Celegtâl could hold tongue no longer. “Why are they coming? They want to destroy us, the filthy beasts. We must eliminate them before they have a chance to contaminate our forest.”

Erebemlin stood and face the young speaker. His frame towered over Celegtâl as he spoke calmly and firmly, holding him with his thoughts. You speak too quickly, Elloneth. “We are not the only beings who need food to last the winter. They will be in search of flesh to take to their mines.” The elder released the young elf from his gaze and turned to Caranduin and Taitheneb. “However understandable their motives, they will not find what they seek in the Golden Wood. We will be ready for them when they arrive.” With that, Erebemlin snatched his bow and descended from his home, letting the three follow.

[mark12_30]

Amroth sat up with an effort, ran his hand over his eyes, and said, "Mellon, do not fret. You worry too much."

"What?" said Ædegard. "What did you say?"

"Mellon worries too much. He frets too much."

"Mellon? Are you Mellon or Amroth? Mellon!"

Amroth gestured at the boy, who was weaving back and forth between Amroth and his erstwhile companions.

Ædegard snapped back into the present. "What is he doing?"

"He is fretting."

"Tell him to stop!"

"I did so. He paid no heed." With that, Amroth surrendered to his weariness. He lay back, and within seconds was sound asleep. Once again, the lad slid off his horse and tried to drag Amroth away. Amroth did not even stir. The lad shook him and lectured him, casting wild glances at the others, but Amroth did not stir. Finally the boy began to plead.

[mark12_30]

Raefindan watched Gwyllion petting Jorje til there was peace in Gwyllion's eyes, and then he nodded to her. "All right, Gwyllion. Let's walk. Would you like Jorje to walk with you?"

He picked up his pack. The group began walking with the early winter sun behind them, and their shadows were long upon the grass.

[Orual]

The sharp cracks from Aeron's knife against the piece of wood resonated in Ravion's head. Snap. Snap. It had a pattern, an entirely unintentional musicality to it, that stemmed from Aeron's emotions.

It didn't take Ravion's Ranger training to tell him that the boy was angry. He knew from his own experience that every emotion had its own rythm. Happiness was bright and stacatto; sadness was slow and drawn-out; nervousness was quick and brief; and anger...anger was broken, hard, and fast. Ravion sighed, put down his pack, and walked over to Aeron.

"I don't want to be your enemy, Aeron," Ravion said without preamble. He leaned on his arm against the tree that Aeron was sitting under. The boy did not look up at him. Ravion sighed again, and turned to press his back against the trunk. "Aeron. Are you listening to me?"

"I can hear you," Aeron said noncomittally.

"Aeron, this trip won't be pleasant if we fight the whole way. You obviously misinterpreted what I said to your sister. But you have to understand that time is of the essence. If she keeps having these fits, we'll lose valuable time. Now, we can fight, or we can be civil to each other. Which will it be?"

With an air of relief, Ravion waited for Aeron's response. At least he had gotten through it without actually saying the word "sorry"...

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Each day seemed to grow more and more strange to Bellyn. The wayfarers intrigued her, to say the least, but now they had two of the folk traveling with them. The young Rohirric lady, Argeleafa, Bellyn had no qualms with. In fact, Bellyn thought it rather nice to have another companion. Not just because Argeleafa was female, but also because it seemed to Bellyn that she knew as little about adventure and traveling as Bellyn did.

This new wayfarer, the Easterling, who had been called 'Mellon' by Amroth, turned out to be another matter entirely. Bellyn hadn't planned on ever seeing a weapon in Ædegard's hand, much less in Liornung's grasp. The boy had bitten Liornung! Bellyn scowled at the boy as Amroth dazed into and out of consiousness. She tried her best to remember the conclusion she and Liornung had come up with about Ædegard, and hoped that Mellon would calm.

"For one who wished for no sleep, Amroth seems to have dropped off quite easily," Bellyn murmured, looking at Amroth. Liornung sighed and Bellyn caught a hint of a snort from Ædegard, who watched the boy speaking to the sleeping Amroth. Bellyn sighed, glancing at Argeleafa and Liornung, to Ædegard, to Mellon and Amroth, then back again. "It does not look like Amroth shall be waking any time soon."

"Right. We need to get 'Mellon' to stop dragging him around then," Ædegard pointed out, interlocking his fingers and resting his hands behind his head.

"To do that we need to be sure 'Mellon' will not bite us," Argeleafa added softly, and Liornung nodded approvingly to her.

"How do we go about doing this, then?" Bellyn wondered aloud. She wished she was brave enough to walk right up to Mellon and help to tame the lad, but with several glances at Liornung's arm, Bellyn was forced to think twice. "While we all figure how to complete this task, would you like me to tend to your arm, Liornung?"

[Nurumaiel]

As soon as the boy was off his horse Ædegard took hold of the reins so there would be no more danger of being ridden down. Liornung found himself immensely touched by the way Pig pleaded with Amroth, trying to get his friend to wake up. "Hold a moment," Liornung murmured to Bellyn. "I would speak with the boy." He took a hesitant step forward, saying softly, "He's all right, lad, merely tired..." but Pig jumped up and placed himself in front of Amroth once again, glaring fiercely at Liornung. The fiddler drew back warily, remembering his injured hand. Argeleafa touched his shoulder and murmured, "Please let me try to talk to him... he knows my face whether he trusts it or not." She moved closer to the boy, and Liornung stepped back, holding out his injured hand so Bellyn might tend to it.

"Pig," Argeleafa began, but could not continue for she choked on the word. What was it that Amroth had called the lad. It was a strange word and she spoke it hesitantly, her accent Rohirric and her pronunciation of the word odd, but the tone in which she spoke it merited the word. "Mellon..." The boy met her eyes, distrust and confusion in them. "Mellon, please, you must understand that these people here are friends of your friend there - " how foolish she was to have forgotten the name so soon " - and desire to be your friends. If you will not accept their friendship at least do not harm them further."

The boy did not answer, nor did he move away from Amroth, but the dangerous look in his eyes relaxed a bit though he still seemed wary. Argeleafa returned to the rest of the group. "I can do no more now," she said. "At least I don't think he will harm you again, as long as we do not appear to pose any threat to your friend."

Liornung looked with admiration on the neat, white bandage Bellyn had put on his hand and thanked her gratefully before answering Argeleafa. "It will not be easy to bring him to trust us," he said. "It would be best if we merely showed that we are friendly and not show any hostility towards him. I regret sorely that I drew my weapon, and my surprise at his own hostility was no excuse for it." He returned his gaze to the bandage on his hand but this time the expression on his face was rueful. "Alas, I fear this wound will hinder my fiddling in no little way. However I will sing The Fair Maid of Gondor for you again so we might have something to do whilst we wait for the lad to begin dragging good Amroth off again. I have no doubt he will try. Just keep in mind, friends, that we must stop him not through force but through kind persuasion. We'll convince him, if possible, that it would be a good thing if Amroth were to remain resting where he was, for the boy really does cares for him."

[mark12_30]

Ædegard watched the wild boy. The horses grazed here and there. Ædegard, Bellyn, Liornung and Argeleafa traded songs, and stories. Ædegard's stories were as grim as Liornung's were merry.

To Liornung's relief, the wild boy did not try to drag Amroth away again as long as they maintained their distance. Instead, he stood guard and kept his horse nearby. When Echo wandered near, the boy caught him, and kept him nearby as well. As long as the boy remained calm, Ædegard's blade remained sheathed.

Two hours passed in this uneasy truce. Then the day clouded over, the wind blew chill from the east, and shivering in the cold Amroth struggled against his dreams. He murmured and tossed, and the boy began to plead with him again, but Amroth did not wake.

[Imladris]

"Now, we can fight, or we can be civil to each other. Which will it be?"

Aeron raised his head, and glanced at the ranger as they both made their way to the head of the small caravan. He considerred. He supposed the ranger was not that bad...but he had such a cryptic attitude. A scowlish smile flashed across his face and he said, "I suppose we can be civil to each other."

Ravion nodded, and strode to the head of the procession, while Aeron lingered beside his sister Gwyllion. Pebbles lined the way and Aeron stooped and picked them up, cramming them into his palm.

Glancing askance at Ravion, he whispered, "Gwyllion, hold your hand out!" Like the obedient, adoring, younger sister that she was, she did and he deposited the pebbles in her sooty hand. "What is this for?" she asked, raising her brows. He leaned down and whispered something into her ear.

She frowned, then smiled, then frowned again. "If I come under his cold wrath, it's your fault and I won't hesitate to put the blame on you."

He scoffed.

Fingering a pebble, Gwyllion tossed it at Ravion's head. The pebbled darted through the air, and hit the ranger's head with a dull smack. Aeron, at the same time, mimicked Gwyllion's subtle toss with slight exaggeration. She did it again, trying to stifle her laughter, and he mimicked her again, this time with a slightly greater exaggeration.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and glanced back. She was astonished to see Gwillion toss a pebble at Ravion. At a ranger, and a temperamental ranger at that. She is moonstruck, thought Mellonin with deepening horror.

The more she watched Gwillion, the more she feared for Mellondu.

Should she say something? What would Ravion do? Would Ravion's coldblooded fury end in poor Gwillion's sudden death? Or, more likely, Aeron's?