Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[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.