Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[mark12_30]

Amroth lay on his back, stargazing with his shortsighted eyes while he searched the riverbanks over and over and over with the eyes of his heart. She was not here; not if her thoughts were open.

And what if Erebemlin was right? What if her thoughts were closed? What if she had closed them for fear of the Dark Lord, and not opened them again?

A thousand years, he reminded himself. A thousand years had passed since he had leapt from the ship. A thousand years...

His reason revolted against it. How could he have waited a thousand years to come back for his love, his breath, his soul, his very life? It could not be true. And yet, his heart did not doubt it was; not when he studied Erebemlin; a thousand years of Erebemlin's memory lay between now and Erebemlin's last farewell to Amroth. It was no lie.

So where had the thousand years gone? Was he a thousand years in the water? That could not be. Had he been a thousand years under some spell? Or some restraint? Somehow that felt nearer the mark, and yet how could an elf be so restrained for so long, and not know it? Where else but--

Mandos.

A searing pain went through his mind, and panic gripped him; just as quickly, a soft fog settled over his thoughts. He retreated as puzzled as a dog chastened by a kitten. He shook his head, and rubbed his weak eyes, squinting at the stars; why could he see so little? And why did... What had he been thinking? He had been nearer to solving some puzzle, and now he had forgotten the question that had so intrigued him.

It did not matter. One thing mattered. One thing... Nimrodel. Where was she?

Where are you? Beloved, open your thoughts. I long for you. I cannot rest without you. Hear me, Nimrodel, my love. Where have you hidden? Oh, hide from me no more. Hear me, Nimrodel, Nimrodel!

Nearby, Erebemlin and Taitheneb exchanged glances as Amroth's cry cut through their thoughts. Even the mannish folk turned, aware of Amroth's sorrow. Nethwador left the others, hurried to Amroth's side, and laid his hand on the king's shoulder.

Erebemlin joined him, and spoke softly to the king. "Sleep, my lord. Perhaps you will find her in dreams. Sleep now."

His longing drove him into his dreams, and as the shadows and tempest neared him, he embraced it. Waves, dust, fear, despair, he swam through it all, reaching for every shadow in the hope that he might find her.

[mark12_30]

Jorje sat and watched Mellonin approach Ravion. He looked at Raefindan, who did not return his devoted gaze.

He sighed, sniffed the wind, scratched his ear, looked at Raefindan again, walked to Gwyllion and nudged her hand.

[Imladris]

Gwyllion watched Mellonin creep towards Ravion. Her face was white and a little pinched at the corners of the mouth. She really could not blame Mellonin for being afraid to aproach the ranger. He was a ranger after all.

He was tall. Dark. Brooding. And he and Aeron did not get along in her humble opinion. In fact, why wasn't her brother more afraid of that ranger? Because, as she had supposed all along, her brother did not have a mind in that head of his.

Jorge ambled beside Mellonin and cocked his head at her. With awag of his tail he came towards Gwyllion and nuzzled her. Nuzzled her with his wet, slimy, black nose. "No touching," she hissed, shoving his nose away.

He looked at her, his big brown eyes wide and limpid.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Do not even give me that look."

Jorge glanced at Mellonin and whimpered. She sighed. He was saying plain as plain that she should go over there....with Mellonin....to face the ranger. She closed her eyes. She didn't want to go over there....to stand beside the ranger who had shed lots of blood. Blood....red blood.... She clenched her fists. She would not have another fit.

Well....Mellonin was her friend and she had already taken enough from Aeron. She marched towards her and slipped her arm about her waist and tried to smile at the ranger...

[Orual]

Ravion turned to Mellonin, surprised. "For what I've...done," he repeated blankly.

"Yes, for what you've done," Mellonin said, her voice tight. She seemed eager to get away as soon as possible.

"Oh." Ravion looked down and frowned, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. How was he supposed to respond to that? He did not know how to react to a woman saying something like that...what did she mean? Was it what she was saying? His fellow Rangers always said that women never said what they meant. "You are...you are welcome."

He turned away, glad that he was through with that. But Mellonin was not. "I truly appreciate it," she said.

"Thank you," Ravion said. He coughed. "Thank you."

Mellonin looked at him for a moment, then turned to leave.

"Mellonin," Ravion called. She turned. He swallowed, and walked up to her. "All that I have done for you...I am not sure that it has been that much."

Mellonin frowned, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that we have been travelling for weeks now, and are no closer to finding your brother than we were in the first," he said. "I have led you poorly. I was an ill choice to guide you. I am sorry."

[mark12_30]

"Sorry?" Mellonin echoed. She looked at Gwyllion, and realised that her mouth was open, jaw hanging. "Sorry? Ill choice?"

He waited.

"Ill choice?" she repeated, her voice rising.

He considered taking a step backwards, but stood his ground.

"We have been travelling for seven days. One week, no more. And barely that. And in that time you have led us through land I have never seen, on paths I do not know. You dove in alone to save my friend--" here she gave Gwyllion a rough shake-- "while I stood on the bank doing nothing. You went hunting after my sick redhaired friend and rescued him from some cave where he was prisoner. And you saved this childish brat--" she jabbed a trembling finger towards Aeron as her voice grew shrill-- "from a scavenging pirate and his friend who wanted his skin or worse. What say you to that? Were it not for you, we would be enslaved, prisoners, or-- or-- or fish-bait. Ill choice indeed! I think not. I think not!"

She turned on her heel and stormed away from him, past the fire. Raefindan opened his mouth to speak and she jabbed a finger at him. "I thanked him. Now you leave me in peace for one hour!" She passed him, crested the small rise, walked another twenty paces and sat down with her back to the group.

"Your feet won't dry over there, " Raefindan called.

"One hour!" she snapped.

Raefindan chose a stick, and stirred the fire.

[Imladris]

Aeron's jaw dropped. A childish brat? Who was she calling a childish brat? He looked around. There was no other child around except Gwyll --- and her finger hadn't been pointing at his valaric sister. He shifted his jaw to the side and glared at Raefindan. No...she was too attached to him. It was certain. She was referring to himself of all people.

He stalked toward and said, "A childish brat? You think I'm childish brat?" he shouted.


"What else could you be?" snapped Mellonin.

"Anything but a childish brat!" How could anyone think he was a childish brat? Childish brats were people who kicked and screamed at fate, who sulked when they didn't get their way and have their every whim provided. He a childish brat? Hardly.

He glared at her. What had she done to help? How had she done to save their necks? How had she help save Gwyllion? It was probably her fault in the first place that Gwyll had gone too close to the water. "You haven't done anything on this bloody expedition!" he said, his voice tight. He considerred how far he could go without getting a beating from Ravion.

She glared at him. She was breathing rather heavily Aeron thought. Good.

"Oh. So you have no words to say to me, eh? That means I'm right. Your silence prooves that I am not a childish brat." He smirked at her.

"Yes you are. You are stupid, careless and a thief. You do not even care when someone could be dead."

Oh. So his words about her brother was what was causing all this hard feeling. "At least I don't moan about it and feel sorry for myself all blasted day," he snapped. "I accept what life offers and I don't waste the days being afraid that someone is dead or in fear that my brother (or sister in my case) is moonstruck. So bloody what? Does moaning about it and wallowing in self pity like some....some...plump swine change the course of this world?"

[mark12_30]

She glared disdainfully. "Insect. Small help do you give to the course of this world. The fealty you swear to yourself is boundless. It must be so, for no other will have you or follow you. Were it not for your sister, your company would be worthless. As it is, she pays for your keep; your selfish, filthy, brash, self-serving and loathsome keep. "

[Nurumaiel]

"I myself have met Théolyn," said Liornung, speaking more to Nethwador and Argeleafa than to Ædegard. "Courteous she is, and also fair of face. She cares for Ædegard very dearly. Bella, too, met her."

Bella nodded in silence; Argeleafa considered the story Ædegard had told and felt a deep sorrow well up in her for Théolyn. The latter had lost her parents in death, and not simply to the wayfarers. Yet Théolyn's relatives had stepped forward to take care of her. And Argeleafa did not know who would care for her now that she lacked parents.

Liornung had been speaking a little more of Théolyn through these brief thoughts of Argeleafa. "Yes, a fine girl," he said as a conclusion, and looked to Ædegard again. "Now I grow weary, and soon I must retire, but first, Ædegard, I must ask you who the one by the name of Freawine was. I met him also at your departure from Edoras, and he seemed very wise. Who is he?"