Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[littlemanpoet]

Ædegard heard shouts and cries and howls through the fog of his fever. What was happening? He saw swords rising and falling, gore flying. A battle! He struggled to his knees and reached for his sword; it was not there. What had happened to it? He felt something at his left hand. It was Jorje's nose, sniffing and licking daintily at the bandage covering his wrist.

Where is my hand?

Oh, aye, he had lost it. My hand! No! How can I be a wainwright? With the fresh realization, his eyes and ears cleared and the sights and sounds made more sense. Bellyn and Leafa were with them again! Who had saved her? them? He would have to thank him. He struggled to his feet, Jorje at his side. The young boy Aeron was kneeling, holding his sister in his arms; he was crying.

Do not cry, call for a healer.

Or was it too late for a healer? He stumbled to Leafa, who was being cradled in the arms of Liornung. Good man. He held her gently, and she wept. He stopped a pace from her and fell to his knees.

"Leafa! You are safe!"

She raised her tear stained face to him. "Ædegard!" Liornung helped her up and she fell upon Ædegard with fresh weeping. He stroked her hair, felt an ear beneath his hand; but not two ears. He looked at the palm of his hand, and it was covered in blood.

"What has happened to you, Leafa?"

She sobbed. Ædegard looked to Liornung, who tapped his left ear with his left hand. Ædegard raised her hair, saw, and closed his eyes tightly. No. The swamp elf would pay. He felt his eyes well.

"Ædegard! Your hand! Oh, my poor, poor-"

It was a great relief to have her in his arms, have her caressing his forearm so carefully, gently. He was kissing her hair, her head, cradling her. But he knew that his plans were all for nought. He could not keep her, for he could not do the work he had inherited from his father; not with only one hand. He was finished. He would be reduced to begging for his bread. He could not keep her. He would have to tell her, soon. But not yet.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Bellyn had never been so happy to see Nethwador's familiar face. He helped Bellyn to her feet, and led her away from the battleground. She felt groggy and dizzy. As she walked Bellyn stumbled like a man returning home from the tavern after one too many drinks. Nethwador sat her down on a dry patch of ground nearby to the mourning companions, and proceeded to plop down next to her.

"Bella!" He piped, wiping blood from the only scratch on her face, just along her cheekbone. Her other wounds had been sustained mostly along her arms, especially the one that had held the offending knife against the attackers. Her heart still beat rapidly; she could feel it thumping against her ribs. Bellyn still despaired. She desperately wished to return to the safety of her dreams. The dream...Bellyn thought quickly, her eyes widening as she looked down at her bloodied hands. Not my blood...she realized. The blood of the girl.

Bellyn shuddered.

She wondered at the fate of their journey. The Gondorian wondered why it had not been her ear, or her face; she wondered why the girl-child had to be the one to die. How can I feel as if I have braved the most frightening thing in the world? How can I feel as if I understand their pain? Bellyn wondered, feeling ever-guilty that she had escaped with minor cuts and bruises.

Bellyn sniffed and watched the wreckage of the fight before turning to face Nethwador.

"Nín celair tirn...hebim band..." Bellyn murmured in reply. The language her parents knew - the language they might have spoken together. It sent shivers down her spine. 'My brilliant watcher...keep me safe'. Did I say that right? Bellyn wondered. Would it matter if I did? Would he understand? Worrying over her broken Elvish words, Bellyn's brows furrowed and she frowned for a moment, looking down at her lap. Then she sighed, and smiled, looking up at Nethwador. "Thank you, Mellon."

She leaned over and wrapped her arms around Nethwador's shoulders tightly. Bellyn wondered if Nethwador was surprised; she could not see his face, for her head was nestled over his shoulder. It is really over. It is all over. Everything. The evil has gone for now.