Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[mark12_30]

Amroth took a deep breath, and another. What was amiss with this elf? In thousands of years, Erebemlin had never defied him, had never been anything but loyal and truthful. And truly he did not seem wilful or deceitful now. Either he was lying skilfully (a repulsive notion) or he believed his wild tale.

Or what he says is true, and I am the one deceived.

Amroth closed his mind, and stepped back, tunrning to pace along the talan's edge. He had forgotten the boy. Mellon stood out of place, a ragged unkempt and disheveled mess in the midst of beauty. His brows were knit with annoyance, hurt, and confusion.

Amroth remembered as if from a great distance that this boy knew not a word that had been spoken. He touched his shoulder, and his thoughts. In vain I wearied your good horse, my friend. She is not here.

He was surprised by the boy's forgiveness. Mellon gently opened his mind as if in an embrace. Another surprise followed.

Since your lady is not here, we can return to Lady Bella.

Amroth laughed aloud; there was no mistaking the boy's tenderness or desire. She will find us, friend.

Amroth returned his gaze to Erebemlin; unlike Mellon the elf's worried thoughts were guarded and all but closed. Amroth's eyes steeled, and he returned to the elf, reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Erebemlin, open your thoughts to me."

"My lord?"

"Let me search your thoughts."

Real fear crossed the warrior's face. "My lord, something is amiss. You are not well. Why would you do this?"

"I must know."

The powerful elf took a step backwards. "My Lord, I have told you. She has been gone these thousand years. Why would you search me?"

"I will cause you no harm. Erebemlin, I must understand. Open your thoughts."

Eyes widening, Erebemlin thought of calling for his friends or fleeing down the ladder, or simply closing his mind. Yet, this was no servant of darkness; this was his king. "My lord, do not ask this of me."

"Why do you fear me? Erebemlin, have I ever harmed you?"

"No, my lord." But the elf's mind remained closed.

Amroth stepped back. "Then I must find understanding elsewhere, if the whole forest has not gone mad, " he said. "Is this fear the fruit of the dwarf-wakened darkness? Where then shall I turn for aid if not to my own kin?"

[littlemanpoet]

"I tell you, this is beyond bearing!" He kicked at a stone. "Here we are, trailing after him like glad puppies, and all the thanks we get is a cold shoulder. I'd turn back now but he has my horse."

Ædegard started about breaking camp, and the others followed suit. The hoof prints would not be hard to follow. Ædegard brooded silently as he kept his eye on the hoof trail, giving no heed to whether the ranger, Liornung, Argeleafa and Bella followed close or not at all. All he wanted was his horse back and to be done with the mad blacksmith, but only after telling him how things really stood.

He ate up the miles, heedless of anyone or anything else.

[alaklondewen]

“My lord, I will aid you with any need you have.” Erebemlin did not understand Amroth’s insistent behavior. Was his word no longer adequate? “Please, come and rest. Taitheneb, bring us food suitable for a weary king.”

Taitheneb nodded and quickly descended the mellorn. His mind was swimming with what he had witnessed. How could that young mortal be the long departed King Amroth? Yet, the Silmaethor believed. Taitheneb landed on the forest floor and comforted the horses that awaited their young masters, before hurrying to gather the provisions Erebemlin wanted.

Meanwhile, Erebemlin turned his attention on the second boy, Amroth’s companion. The Sinda touched the boy’s mind and saw anxiety and fierce loyalty to Amroth. Do not fear. We will not harm you. The young boy relaxed slightly. Tell me your name, young one.

The boy remained silent, but Erebemlin saw his mind form the image of a pig. That is an animal. What is your name?

They call me pig, but he names me, Mellon.

You are a friend. That is well. Erebemlin knelt to look into the boy’s eyes. But you need a real name, Mellon. The Sinda thought for a moment while looking the boy over. You are of a wandering people, are you not? The young boy nodded and shared his family’s fate and his meeting and love for Amroth. “Neth-gwador, I shall call you…young brother. For you are brave and show strong loyalty and love for the King.”

The boy tried to wrap his tongue around the name, "Net-kwad-er."

Erebemlin smiled and touched the boy's shoulder. "Noble effort. Try it this way...Nethwador." The young mortal tried once more and procounced the name beautifully. "Very well, indeed. Now you shall never be known as an animal again."

[mark12_30]

Amroth looked on as Erebemlin turned his attention to Mellon, and resisted the urge to smile. A diversion. Mellon needed the acceptance, and Amroth waited.

So she is not here, he thought. And they have had no tidings of her in a thousand years... madness. He must seek other counsel.

And yet... Erebemlin was no fool, and he did not seem mad; only .... frightened.

"Erebemlin."

The elf seemed afraid to answer. "My lord." Slowly he turned to face Amroth.

"I shall open my mind to you, and you shall see what you will."

"My lord!" Erebemlin stared. "By your leave, no, my lord."

"You do not trust me even for this?"

Erebemlin stared down at the talan. This should have been a joyous reunion, he reflected; a time of song and tale, of tune and dance... his heart felt tied in a knot. "I do trust you, my lord."

"Then what is it you fear?"

Erebemlin's face twisted. "The darkness of your dreams, my lord; the fire, and the shadow. Whence came these, my lord? Whence came your sorrow and your despair? What did this past thousand years cost you? I fear what robbed you will rob me as well. And your strength of will may easily defeat mine."

"Erebemlin, I desire no such thing; I am not here for conquest, or rule or lands or anything else that these lands can give. I am here only for one purpose and that is to find my Nimrodel. Will you aid me? For if not, then I must find someone who will."

"I have told you, my lord, I will aid you in any way I can."

An impasse. Neither would give way, Amroth knew, and they were wasting precious time.

At that moment, Taitheneb and another elf arrived at the foot of the tree. They carried packs of food, the best Taitheneb could procure in haste. Taitheneb whistled a bird-song, Erebemlin whistled back and Taitheneb began to climb the ladder.

When a cloth was spread and the breads and fruits and venison placed on it, Amroth spoke. "Taitheneb, join us, and your companion as well."

"I did not bring food for five--"

"Come, sit." Erebemlin motioned Taitheneb to obey, and soon there were three elves and two mortals seated around the cloth. Amroth turned to Taitheneb. "Tell me, Ellon, what has come to pass in the time since the dwarves awoke the evil in Moria."

[Imladris]

With a sigh, Aeron turned away and meandered back to Gwyllion who straggled along at the end of the group. He saw Raefindan and Mellonin exchange a glance or two, but he did not care. It was that blasted ranger's fault that things got out of control. He should just learn to ignore Gwyllion's quirks like he had learned to. If she threw a fit, calm her down. Do not try to analyze her because that will not help anything. Aeron chuckled softly. He had tried to figure it out for fifteen years. Why did the ranger think he could do better?

Gwyllion trudged along besider him. Her feet dragged along the ground, leaving a broad in her wake. He sighed, and looked at the softly rolling grasslands around them. They were on a small path. Ravion had told them that it would lead them to some forest...what was it? Loth something. Why would a blacksmith go towards a forest? He shrugged. It did not matter. He and Gwyllion were as safe as could be...a good deal safer than in the town.

He looked at Gwyllion and said, "Are you still angry with me."

With turning her head, she said, "Yes."

"It was just a little cut...a mere scratch. It is probably not bleeding anymore." She was growing more sensitive if the blood still bothered her.

"It is not that," she whispered. "Well, it is in a way...but you made me hurt him."

"All you did was throw a pebble at him," he said. What was so wrong with that. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The ranger deserved it, anyway.

"Well, I think it was a bad idea," she snapped.

"You did not have to do it," Aeron countered.

She relapsed into silence. He could feel the barrier begin to grow...could feel it begin to bristle. Aeron frowned. Why was she doing this? He had not done anything...she was the one who had thrown the pebbles...she could have decided not to have done it...he shook his head. Already he had two enemies -- and one was the one he loved most. He shrugged. She would be over it by morning...hopefully. If not, he would win her back by being his likeable, adorable self. He smiled.

His stomach twisted and he called, "Are we going to stop for lunch or just keep marching all blasted day?" It was a hot day and he was hungry. He could feel a pain creep up the back of his neck and spread across his head.

Ravion, without looking at him, said, "No. Too much time was wasted earlier on to take a lunch break. "

Aeron gasped and was about to protest, when he saw the evil glare that Gwyllion shot at him. Well, if they did not want to eat, that was fine by him. They could all starve. Maybe it would serve to fuel a bit of animosity at the ranger.

He sighed, and looked around him. Grasslands stretched to the distance, a few treest dotted the area...not prospect of adventure. Was this how all adventures were? Trudging in the mild lands, waiting for something to jump out of the shadows and eat you? He grimaced. Adventures were boring. There was no way around that.

Ravion did hand out something like cram though, which Aeron thought was rather kind of him. The stuff was very unpleasant though and Aeron spat it out and quitely tossed it by the way side. Let the birds have it. He wondered if he should have just given it back to Ravion, but then he would have to listen to another lecture that day.

Twilight did not come swiftly enough for Aeron, and the boy was beginning to think that it had been detained by some malignant force. Finally, it did come with a rush (to make up for lost time, Aeron suspected) and Ravion ordered camp to be set. Aeron built the fire and collapsed in front of it.

Mellonin sat down beside him and stared into the flames. It was strange. She was just as passive as Gwyllion. Aeron thought she was worried about her brother. What kind of peson was her brother? Raising himself to one elbow, Aeron said, "Tell me about your brother." It felt strange, breaking the silence.

[littlemanpoet]

It looked like a day's hard ride from the Limlight to the distant forest, which Ædegard could see because its trees were so tall. He never did see Amroth and Mellon ahead of him the whole time, but their horses' hoof prints were unmistakable.

It was good to be alone for a change. It was the first time since Liornung and Bellyn had come upon him out of Edoras. To have space on every side, free of word or look or glances that meant the others trusted him to act in certain ways, will he or nill he. His horizon was free of other folk, of other faces, whether grinning like Liornung's usually was, or thoughtful as Bellyn, or fair Argeleafa of the Rohirrim. Or Liornung's songs.

He missed the songs.

He liked being with them. At any rate, Amroth's tracks looked to stay clear for any eyes.

He slowed and waited. His horse did not mind, as he gave him his head and he proceeded to graze.

He did not have to wait long. He waved when he saw them coming. Four of them. He had forgotten about the Ranger, Erundil. His brow furrowed, for he did not trust the man, a stranger. Then again, the three allowed him to ride with them. Maybe he would prove as trustworthy as Liornung and Bellyn. He waved.

"Ædegard!" Liornung cried. "Well met again! I am glad that you have decided to wait for us! Have you any sign of Amroth?"

"None save his trail."

They exchanged what little news they had not yet given between each other, and Ædegard shook hands with Erundil. Then the five pushed on, and Ædegard left Liornung and Bellyn to read the trail. He was happy to ride beside Aregeleafa and Erundil. There was not much talk passing between them, but that did not displease Ædegard.

As the forest grew before them, clear voices called to them.

"Halt! Come no nearer. This realm may not be traveled without leave. Name yourselves!"

[littlemanpoet]

A number of things happened at once. Raefindan dove into the water to rescue the merchant. Mellonin came to Aeron to see how he fared. Gwyllion stared at the merchant, her face white. The merchant's man drew his sword and crossed over to Gwyllion, lifted her to her feet, and held his sword at her neck.

"You and yours have raised a hand against my master. Do so again and this one pays."

Ravion's eyes went hard and his body tensed, his sword aimed at the man at arms. Aeron and Mellonin both turned as if yanked around by a rope, and stared at the man and Gwyllion, who had begun to whimper.

Raefindan pulled the merchant to shore. He was glad the man was skinny. Once he was sure the man was safe on land, stretched on the beach and coughing like a seal barking, he came forward, both hands raised, giving a quick reassuring nod to Ravion as he turned to face the man at arms. He would have to think about seals barking, what they were and where he remembered them from, later, when he had a chance.

"I have helped your master. We do not mean ill to you nor your master. Release the girl."

The man at arms looked questioningly to the merchant.

Raefindan spoke to the merchant. "Sir, please tell your man we mean you no harm. You have had my aid."

Slowly, the merchant considered, and at last, nodded. "Let the girl go. But keep that sword leveled on the boy!"

"Thank you," Raefindan said. He put a hand up to Ravion, who had raised his sword higher at the threat to Aeron.

"Sir, there is something that we would like to explain - ah - um - clear up about Aeron - but only when these swords drop."

The merchant looked from Ravion to Raefindan, glanced at Aeron, then gave an eyebrow raised look at his man at arms who shrugged noncommitally.

"Make him put his sword away first," said the merchant, pointing to Ravion.

"I cannot make him do anything, for he is our leader, but I am sure that he will agree to lower his sword if your man will do the same. Sir?" The merchant nodded. "My thanks. Ravion?"

As they watched, both swords lowered slowly, as if they were attached by elastic somehow, until their points rested near the ground.

"As I was saying, sir, we are this boy's jailers. We are giving him his punishment."

The merchant's brow rose again. "How?"

"Ah, sir, that is a good question. The answer best comes from Ravion, for it was he who arranged it. But before we speak more, might we not procure - ah - um - get - some towels or cloth to dry ourselves, and then perhaps something hot to drink for my good man here and his trusty footman?"

[Orual]

The silence was resounding, and Raefindan's gentlemanly offer fell on deaf ears. Ravion glared at the merchant, who glared back twice as venemously.

"You have taken the thief on as punishment, have you, Ranger?" the merchant jeered, spitting out Ravion's title like poison. "Tell me, how so? Protected by a Ranger, given food, the possibility of adventure...oh, yes, sounds to me like every boy's worst nightmare."

"Believe me when I say that there were things he would more enjoy doing," Ravion said, his voice dry. "Dressing up as a steak and being thrown to Wargs, for starters. The boy has been given no luxuries. He is here as my aide, and he will make himself useful or he will be cast off. I have no room in this company for idlers."

"But you have room for criminals?" the merchant demanded.

"We all have something to atone for," Ravion replied coldly and pointedly. He glanced at Aeron, who was still holding his injured arm. He hoped passionately that the merchant had not dislocated it. That would take too long to heal. He looked over to Raefindan. "More discussion would fall ill on thirsty dispositions. Even more ill than it already has. Perhaps my friend Raefindan is correct--perhaps a drink would not be amiss."

[Orual]

The wayfarer girl smiled at him, a curious smile, open and trusting. No, perhaps trusting was the wrong word. Inviting.

Erundil took a moment. He was not a man prone to smiles. It had been something of a oddity to his brother Rangers, who would laugh and joke around him to lighten the tension during the War. He never joined in their jests. Now, he wondered at this girl smiling while her companions seemed to be so focused and intent in their chase.

He felt a small smile slip onto his face, and coughed, and changed the subject. Perhaps she could tell him something of the blacksmith. "This...companion of yours. Your friends seem worried. Is he a danger to himself?"

The girl frowned a bit. "They say that he is not himself," she said, before they both heard a voice call:

"Halt! Come no nearer. This realm may not be traveled without leave. Name yourselves!"

Erundil kept silent, but groaned inside. Surely he had not let these travelers drag him into danger! Lothlorien? What had he gotten himself into?

[mark12_30]

Ædegard studied Wild Mellon with a look of surprise.

"He's so calm. And what did you call him, sir?"

"Nethwador. It means Young Brother."

"Better than Pig," nodded Ædegard. "And less confusing than Mellon. Nethador it is."

Erebemlin sang one verse over the food, and Liornung held his breath wishing he would sing more. He hoped there would be time for song. Many songs.

They ate; Liornung and Ædegard both remarked how calm Nethwador had become.

"I am not certain it will last beyond the borders of the forest. I believe lord Amroth assured him he was safe here in Lorien," said Erebemlin.

Ædegard handed Nethwador a peice of fruit. "Nethador, here, take this."

It was received calmly, and devoured quickly.

Ædegard shook his head. "It's as if you cast a spell on him."

[littlemanpoet]

Ædegard was not at ease high up in this tree, no matter how large the deck; "talan", they called it, an Elvish word. Ædegard looked at Liornung; the minstrel looked spellbound. Bellyn, next to him, was in awe. Argeleafa, sitting beside Bellyn, looked from Elf to Elf with eyes as wide as he'd seen from her. Seeing them caused Ædegard to wonder why he was not so in awe. Elves were Elves, to be sure, and they were strange, to say the least. Maybe it was that he expected them to be so different, and his expectation had proven true. Nethador, now, his calmness was not expected; and Ædegard believed the Elf, that it would not last beyond the borders of this forest. Now, why had Erebemlin said that? It was as if he expected them to be leaving soon; where to? And why? Maybe it had to do with these dreams Amroth Mellon had been having.

"Sir, these dreams you spoke of. We did not know what they were. I knew that he dreamed, but I did not think they were more than nightmares. Is there more to them?"

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Bellyn listened to the conversation half-heartedly, standing next to Liornung with her hand in his for comfort. When she noticed that Argeleafa sat alone next to them Bellyn tuggedon Liornung's hand gently and the two of them sat down next to Argeleafa. Argeleafa took a piece of fruit with tentative eyes and hesitating hands, but took it anyway. Bellyn craved no fruit, so she eyed the elves and Mellon, now called Neth-something, carefully. Although Bellyn knew that as soon as Amroth woke he would want to leave, the prospect of Mellon going back to his wild ways made Bellyn want to stay despite Amroth's urgency.

"It must mean something more," Bellyn thought aloud, despite the mishap with the names earlier. She spoke to Ædegard at first, but turned to face the Elves as she continued. "Once he took the first watch when we halted for a night, and I asked if he liked it better that way. He said he did not like the dreams he had at night," Bellyn spoke softly, trying to remember Amroth's words so that all she spoke now was true. "He spoke as if he knew the nightmares would not stop..." Bellyn paused, and in this pause she noticed that all eyes were on her as she spoke. She quickly continued. "I asked Amroth then if his song told of his dreams. He said it was strange that an elf did not remember which came first...It was all rather strange."

When Ædegard thought Bellyn was done, he recalled the attention of the elves and continued. "Has he told you things about his dreams that he did not tell us?"

[alaklondewen]

Erebemlin remained silent for a long moment considering what he should share regarding Amroth’s dreams, and if he knew enough of them to share anything at all. “He searches for Nimrodel,” he began slowly. “He searches for her not only in his waking hours, but in his dreams also.” The elf closed his eyes and considered the dark, suffocating images of the dreams. “I wonder if he is possibly finding her.” The thought occurred to the elf only as he spoke it, and his eyes widened and he looked at fruit on the table as though they held the answer.

“If I may, sir,” Liornung spoke up for the first time. “If Amroth is meeting his lady in his dreams, would they not, the dreams, be merry?”

The young man had a point, Erebemlin reflected. The dreams were far from merry. They were full of despair and hopelessness. “I am not certain, Liornung. The dreams are dark, full of a suffocating dust…” The Sinda trailed off as he mulled the idea over in his mind. “I believed his dreams portrayed his despair of his lady’s absence, but now I wonder if it is she who is despaired.” As he spoke the final words he raised his eyes and searched his guests’ faces.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Bella watched, her eyes wide and gaping as Amroth went off into the distance. Her eyes grew wider still as Ædegard went off to follow suit.

“Why do things stray so?” Bella whimpered, dropping her shoulders and letting go of Argeleafa’s hand. Liornung sighed, watching Ædegard follow the tracks of Amroth and Mellon. Bella looked to the strange man. “There is no cause for concern, and naught of our business should become yours, lest you be caught up in a chase as we are.” Bella said to the man, her voice weak.

Argeleafa took to Bella’s side, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It is not good to lose hope when the road has darkened. We will still follow the road, even when it has become dark. Is it not so?” Argeleafa looked into the distance as she finished, watching Ædegard’s back.

“But Argeleafa, there is no road!” Bella scorned herself inwardly for speaking in such a way, but even so she still wondered how long the cycle of catching and staying and losing Amroth would continue. “There is no road!”

“Then no road for the darkness to fall on. So, there is still hope,” Liornung added, smiling but keeping his eyes on the distance between Ædegard and those left behind. “Come, ladies. We go to catch Ædegard, and then to find our dear friend Amroth…”

“And Mellon,” Argeleafa put in with a smile.

“Yes, and Mellon.” Bella agreed, hope renewed for a time as the group took off to catch their companions.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin cast a startled glance at Aeron, and considered his request. Tell me about your brother. She shifted to face him, rearranged her cloak around herself, and then said, “All right.” She sat in silence deciding what to tell.

Raefindan and Ravion were practicing archery at Ravion’s insistence.

“Don’t aim; just think about your release.”

“But it’s dark. What if I lose an arrow?”

“If you lose an arrow at this range you have worse problems. “

Mellonin smiled, and returned her attention to Aeron. “My brother… Well, you know he is a blacksmith. He does beautiful work, very detailed sometimes. He likes the details, and prides himself on creating beautiful things. He was learning his runes, and he puts them onto whatever he makes—even if he can only fit a few onto it. Whoever asks for the work, gets their initials in the piece. Sometimes he uses the Dwarf-runes and sometimes the Elf-runes.”

She could see by Aeron’s expression that she was boring him.

“He likes to sing old songs. He sings them all day while he works. He has a good voice, and he is fond of singing. Three nights before he disappeared, we were singing the Lay of Nimrodel together. He had worked for three days to memorize it. He was quite pleased with himself.”

“So, is he prideful?”

“Not that kind of pleased: more of a childish delight. Although I do think the romance appealed to him.”

“Romance?”

“Well, it is a love song, “ Mellonin laughed. “Have you never heard it?”

“No. Sing it for me.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Please.”

She smiled, and sang so softly that Raefindan and Ravion could not hear a word of it. Aeron listened, trying not to seem too interested, but he did like the song.

“So he likes old stories.”

“Oh, he is a dreamer. He wishes he could have lived back in Numenor, or Beleriand. He wishes he could have seen the Silmarils. He wishes he could have fought with Elendil and Isildur and Anarion, or gone sailing with Earendil.”

“Really, “ replied Aeron, who thought he recognized some of those names.

“In truth, “ laughed Mellonin, “his longing was to be an elf-friend, like King Elessar. He adores Queen Evenstar, and says that her beauty will be forever unmatched; he said once that even Luthien could not have been as beautiful as the Queen. His favorite story is the story of Tuor, who married Idril and became an immortal.”

“I’ve never seen the Queen, “ said Aeron, and then wished he hadn’t.

“What! Where were you at the feast this year?”

“Um, elsewhere,” he muttered.

“Have you never seen her going out to ride in the countryside, or bring gifts to the poor, or visit the sick?”

“No,” sighed Aeron.

Beside him Gwillion spoke up. “Clever theives avoid royalty."

Aeron pretended she hadn’t said anything.

“So,” said Mellonin, “Tell me about yourself.”

[Imladris]

Aeron listened while Mellonin told of her brother, of his love for runes and learning. He smirked. Pouring over old, weathered scrolls in the dim flickering candle light did not sound appealing.

But the song was lovely -- lilting like a river he thought. Amroth and Nimrodel...he shook his head, pondering the story in his head.

And his love for the queen...she was only an elf...Lady Evenstar...The first star was beginning to peek above the mountains. He studied it, wondering why anyone would be named after an evening star. The star was not beautiful...it was prick of light. No more. Still, how did an elf look? He had heard glowing reports of her beauty and now, despite himself, he was curious. He scowled. Drat Mellonin for bringing the queen up . He had never concerned himself with the queen before and now he wondered if the queen would have helped his family as she travelled about the country side.

"Clever thieves avoid royalty," Gwyllion said.

Aeron smiled at her, but the smile faded and was replaced with a puckered frown. She had not said it in a positive light -- almost as if she had wanted to go to the feast and to see the queen. But they had had such adventurous times together, stealing gems from under merchant's noses, richer than any peasant had ever been. Each jewel had been won with adventurous fervor in the game of cleverness. Gwyllion had always been content with their lot before, but ever since she met that horrid ranger she had been different.

"So tell me about yourself," Mellonin said.

Aeron leaned back and considered. What was there to tell? "My father fought in the War and mother died giving birth to Gwyllion and when she was twelve he went away," Aeron said, a cold smile on his face.

"But he will come back," Gwyllion said, nodding her head.

Aeron rolled his eyes and scowled at her delusions. "I have told you that he is not coming back."

"Yes, he will. He cannot hate his children," Gwyllion insisted. "I think he lost his way," she added. "Or he must have been detained."

"Yes, you are right, Gwyllion," Aeron snapped. "He was detained by a great black monster that festers in his heart and he will come back when we are asleep in the ground."

"Maybe he will conquer that monster and then come back to us," Gwyllion suggested.

Aeron shook his head. Either she was too dense to understand what he meant or she did not want to believe it. They had had this conversaton many times before and arguing about it now would not change her mind. Besides, he had already made her angry today and he did not want to risk a loud argument about the matter. Then Ravion would but in like and try to reason with them about how terrible it was argueing on the road and he would drone on and on about how they must stick together to make this trip as pleasant for Mellonin as possible. He glowered at the girl.

To break the awkward silence that had again settled on the group (broken only by soft instructions of Ravion and the whistle and twang of arrows), Aeron said, "I believe it was idiotic what Amroth did. He drowned himself for a woman -- a mere woman who is probably dead. Why else could she not meet him at the shores? It would have been better if he had enjoyed his immortal life instead of throwing it away."

[mark12_30]

Mellonin raised an eyebrow. "A mere woman." Giving Gwillion a nudge, she repeated "...a mere woman... Aeron, is that what you think of us?"

"Leave my sister out of this, " Aeron hissed.

Mellonin lowered her voice til he could barely hear it. "Indeed I will not. It is well known that the way a man treats his sister is the way he will treat his wife. And you risked your life-- at least, you risked rotting in a jail cell, by urging that we agree to have Gwillion along. You risked your future for your sister; therefore you would risk your future for a woman you loved. So you do not think Amroth was a fool. And that means you are lying to me, Aeron."

Aeron studied her in the firelight. She did not look angry. She acted as if she was merely stating a fact. Was she angry?

Why did he care?

[Imladris]

Aeron spat into the fire, listening with some degree of satisfaction to it hiss and splutter to its dissipating doom. Turning, he studied Mellonin and Gwyllion, watched the shadows dance across the cheeks. He had expected her to be angry, but the wrath he had expected had not come. She was stating a fact: that was all.

Gwyllion and Mellonin were mere women (that Gwyllion could be considered a woman Aeron doubted, but the point remained the same), just like he was a mere boy. "Why throw your life away for a woman if she be already dead?" he countered. "It is is silly to languish after a lost lover. It is deluding yourself into a false world that simply does not exist. What dead is dead." He shrugged his shoulders. "We all die, though elves have to be killed to do so. Why not face that fact with bravery instead of plunging yourself into the watery depths to drown yourself? It would not bring her back and he was a fool to believe that his death could bring her back. If he wanted to swim back to shore to make sure she was dead (the song seemed to think she was), then that was stupid diving in so far from shore. And it is silly to kill yourself to join a dead lover. There is a whole world out there to be explored and to be enjoyed," he said, gesturing with his arms. "As for saying that I did virtually the same thing with Gwyllion, in that you are mistaken," he added with a smug smile. "Gwyllion was alive when Nimrodel was not."

[mark12_30]

Chalk walls, covered with ash. Daylight filtering through low-hanging mist, coming to rest on a layer of dust. Nothing green; nothing blue; nothing gold or silver; only grey, turning to black with nightfall. Bones, skulls, rotted teeth scattered about. No decay; there is nothing left to decay. Even the air is dead.

Amroth muttered and grew restless. Erebemlin turned to Nethwador, but the boy had already crawled to Amroth's side, and was hurriedly speaking to Amroth and trying to calm him. Amroth struggled in his sleep.

Taitheneb had departed with the other elf, and now Erebemlin wished that he hadn't. Erebemlin considered calling him back.

"Lord Amroth must rest, Nethwador; yet if his dreams are evil, will his body gain strength?" Erebemlin hesitated. The redness of Amroth's skin had only turned darker, his pulse was pounding in his veins, and he had begun to sweat. Erebemlin stepped to the edge of the talan and drew breath to call Taitheneb. But there was no need. The elf was running back along the path.

"Wake him!"

Erebemlin strode to Amroth's side, shook him and spoke his name. He heard Taitheneb climbing the ladder in haste, and in moments Taitheneb knelt by Amroth's side. "My lord, wake. Lord Amroth!" He placed his hand on the young man's brow, and spoke to him, calling him. Taitheneb's face grew strained, and he trembled. Just as abruptly he released Amroth and sat back, wide-eyed. Amroth now lay quiet and still. Nethwador still chattered at him, til Erebemlin touched his finger to his lips.

"Taitheneb, speak," said Erebemlin.

"He drowned, " said Taitheneb, who had turned pale. "Dusty, filled with dry choking ash. He drowned in death. The dust of mortal decay filled his breast, and he drowned. I heard his cry, and then it was cut off."

Erebemlin glanced at Amroth; his pulse still thudded in his veins. "He lives."

"I heard his cry and it was the cry of one who departs this land." Taitheneb stared at the young man's body, at a loss.

"Why does he lie quiet now?" asid Erebemlin.

"Call him, Silmaethor. He has despaired. You are stronger than I."

Erebemlin studied Taitheneb, and gathered his courage. Taitheneb had braved the lord's dark dreams; he could do no less. He returned to Nethwador's side, and laid his hand on Amroth's brow.

Dust... grey, choking listlessness. The days wear on, each like the last, grey, grim, silent, choked with ash and mist. Each step is like the last; each breath is like the last. What is joy? It is all but forgotten in the grey ash. Where did it go? What was hope? Did I have joy? Did I have hope? Why did it leave me?

[mark12_30]

Mellonin shrank backward, shaking, as Raefindan and Ravion glared at the merchant and his henchman. She went back to Gond, around to his far side, and leaned her face against his neck. She was still shaking.

"What quest?" prodded the henchman.

Ravion looked reluctant to speak, and Raefindan was still pondering his last outburst.

"Tell us of this quest, " said the merchant, sipping his tea, "if it is not another lie."

Mellonin's head snapped up, and she returned from behind the horse. "I am looking for my brother, " she said, meeting the marchant's eyes.

"Your brother. And who might that be, Lord Fingon?" mocked the merchant.

"He goes by the name Mellondu, " she said.

"Oh, but of course. We are all friends here. Especially of Lord Fingon!" The henchman laughed.

A flush rose in Mellonin's face. "He is seventeen. He left the city three weeks past, and we have not heard from him since, although we have news of his trail."Her eyes flicked toward Ravion. Should she let him speak? No; this was her quest, her missing brother. Her voice strengthened. " He is like me in voice and stature."

"Oh ho, he's pretty too!" laughed the henchman. "Why would he want to return home?"

The merchant smirked, and began to laugh.

'He is a boy like this one, " Mellonin gestured at Aeron. "He is no traveller. His strength at the forge will do him little good on the road."

"A blacksmith! A girl-faced delicate little blacksmith!" Ravion's face grew white. But his anger was slower than Mellonin's. She stepped forward and now her eyes sparked with anger.

"It is plain you care little for your fellow men," she hissed at him.

"Men? You speak of boys! Like this one!"

Something tugged at the back of Mellonin's mind, and she turned. The black horse grazed nearby, his saddle and bridle gleaming, his burnished coat reflecting the sun's fire. She stepped calmly to the black steed and grasped its headstall.

"Unhand my horse," said the merchant in a ice-cold voice.

"So! You value your horse. More than a man?" she replied.

"Do not touch him!"

She drew her dagger, and meeting the merchant's eyes, she reached her dagger-hand down towrads the horses' tendon. Unconcerned, the horse chewed his mouthful of grass and looked calmly at its master, but the master was now anything but calm. Both the master and the henchman stood enraged yet rooted to the ground.

Ravion fitted an arrow to his bow; Raefindan belatedly did likewise and stepped back, thought better of it and stepped closer. But Ravion was not aiming at the men. He was aiming at the great black stallion.

"I'll have your head! Do not harm him! You will pay for this!"

"Then leave us, " Mellonin cried, bringing her dagger back up near the horse's throat. "Leave us now! And do not trouble us again, or we will shoot your horse on sight! Leave us now!"

[Imladris]

With a snarl, the merchant leaped onto his horse, drove his heels into his flanks, and dashed away from them, disappearing over a nearby knoll. Behind him he could hear the thudding of his servan'ts hooves. To think that a ragtag group had first of all taken a thief under their wing, second of all refused to return the necklace, and third of all threatening his steed -- he reigned the stallion in gently and dismounted. With loving hands he carressed the broad withers and inspected the neck. If there was so much as a puncture mark that girl -- nay, the Lord Fingon would pay in equal blood.

As for the Lord -- he was no more man than he was nobility, of that the merchant was sure. Turning to his servant who had stopped beside him, he said, "I do not believe that was a lord. If nobility, Fingon would have been a lady."

The servant nodded.

"The flesh of the cheek was too smooth, was it not?"

Again a nod.

"The step too light?"

The nod.

"Her spirit too delicate?"

A snort instead of a nod. "A true lord would have either thrown himself within the fray, or else let you and the ranger fight it out like men. Did you hear her squeak like a frightened child and did you see her hand tremble?"

"Yes. See how easily you call the lord a she? It must have been a girl...a peasant girl at that. Her hands has seen years of hard work and callouses to have been newly traveling."

"My master," said the servant, rubbing his aquiline nose, "why would the brother of a lord be a blacksmith?"

A toothless smile stretched across the merchant's thin face. Why indeed?

[mark12_30]

Mellonin, Raefindan, and Ravion stood, watching, as the two horses thundered over the hill, but then the galloping stopped. They waited. Aeron put his arms around Gwillion, and hushed her, but she only shivered harder and drew closer to him for warmth.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Bellyn hushed herself as Ædegard spoke with the strangers. She felt only slightly better with Liornung close by her side, and Argeleafa behind her. Something about the woods and the strange archer men scared the life and cheer out of her. Or perhaps it was not fear, but some sort of awe that captivated her and kept her in constant rapture. The colors of the leaves were not like any she had ever seen, and held a hue and life that Bella had never used or tried to paint. The rays of sun falling through the treetops and revealing particles of dust had never been sketched by Bella's hand. This is why I am here! Bellyn thought anxiously, the lack of confidence still showing on her face.

Looking to the archers, the ones that had 'frightened' her so, Bella found a new and even more glorious energy. She longed to capture their expressions and how they seemed youthful but wise and old in some other way. All the new surroundings and exotic sights reminded Bellyn why she loved drawing and painting so much. Bellyn felt a desire to capture the moments in time and always wanted to be able to remember the feelings of the picture.

"Liornung, this is such a strange place," Bella whispered, her voice quavering with a mix of excitement and apprehension. "I had not noticed it at first, but now that the arrows are down and my eyes are open to not just the threat of death, I can see how different everything looks! Is it not strange how much more comforted I feel thinking about colors and images, though I keep in my heart his warning that we are being watched?"

"It is no more strange than when I feel comforted at a familiar tune," Liornung replied softly, patting Bella's shoulder again. Bella smiled and became more aware of the songs of birds after Liornung's comment. "But I am still open to hearing new songs. This strangeness, I think, comes from when we realize that the things that comfort us so almost make us forget about the other beauties of the world."

"Yes. I suppose. I do not think I will let my comfort in old colors and sights keep me from seeing the new ones any more." Bellyn said decisively. "But all these new colors cannot keep me from wondering how Amroth and Mellon fare..."

"We shall know soon enough how Amron and Melloth fare, Bella," Argeleafa piped up from behind Bellyn and Liornung, with a grin wide on her face. Bellyn blushed at the reminder of her fumbling speech.

"Soon!" Bellyn agreed.