Friends Of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams, Part 2 RPG

[littlemanpoet]

Although Roy could hear the words the Elves spoke in their minds, he was himself quite human, and felt it. Looking at Mellondu and Mellonin, he could see that their bodies were being exhausted quickly by the hot spirits that had taken up residence within them. It was cause for concern.

Indil had repeated her words that she had spoken to Bergil, that her parents were with Aeron, and that Mithrellas was waiting with Nimrodel not far away. He hoped it was not too far, for the sakes of Mellondo and Mellonin; but also for his own sake, for there were these dreams.

As if thinking of them had brought them on, Raefindan knew he was asleep and dreaming, and that he was in the vale where Mithrellas waited upon Nimrodel, where Aeron and Gwyllion waited at the edge of the vale, and yes, he could now see two others faintly, waiting for their little girl to come to them, to bring to a resolution their grief at being lost to Indil. And there was Angela, sitting on the grass, seeming to contemplate its slow growth.

"Imrazor!"

Mithrellas had turned and seen him first. Angela turned and looked as well, rose, and both women walked toward him.

"I greet you both," Raefindan said. "The swamp elf has been defeated."

"Not utterly," Mithrellas said.

"No, not utterly. Maybe, if we do not destroy him, he may repent."

"Or," Mithrellas replied, "he will destroy himself when he understands that he cannot have Nimrodel."

"Yes, it is his choice," Raefindan replied.

"But enough of that, Imrazor, my love," Mithrellas smiled. "It is good to have you back, if only for a little while."

These words were spoken in the presence of Angela. Raefindan looked at her to see how Mithrellas' words affected her. She was smiling as if they had no effect at all. That may be so, but they affected him: they were confusing.

"There is great lore from my own age that says that it is given only once for a man to die; if I was Imrazor, how is it that I live, since he died?"

"I know not," Mithrellas said, "but Imrazor you have been, and did die in the flesh; how could I not remember, for it grieved me to be left without you these many years. But Luthien died and was given life again, so who can say if you were not given a special measure of doom?"

"Maybe it is so," Roy said. "And you, Angela," he continued, "how is it that you who died thousands of years in the future, are here now, alive and well?"

"The mysteries of eternity are beyond our understanding," she said.

And she needed to say no more. So it was, and how else could it be? But here he was, with an Elf-woman he had once loved with all his heart, and a woman of the future whose love he still held in his heart, though she had died. It stirred a question from him.

"Will I meet both of you in this vale when we arrive?"

Both women raised a hand to his shoulders, and opened thier mouths to speak, and touching him simultaneously said, "Raefindan! It is time to go!"

"Raefindan! It is time to go!"

Roy opened his eyes. Bellyn was rousing him. He shook his head. "I dreamed deeply, Bellyn. Would that you had held off for one more minute, and I might have had an answer I wished to hear."

"I am sorry, Raefindan."

"No matter. I believe my answer will come soon enough."

With that, he prepared himself for another long march.

[mark12_30]

Over rock, over root, downward, downward, and into a broad pool. On the bottom of the pool brown leaves, sunken last year, waved like seaweed from the bottom currents. Overhead the sun was climbing toward the zenith, and the shallow pool glittered in its light.

A current met him; cool, ageless, clean and clear. Her voice was calm, patient. He knew her. Mithrellas. Her presence gave him hope, and refreshed him.

Another current, youthful and gurgling. The child. Her joy in the midst of sorrow was a strength in itself.

Another current: or was it? Was it a current that was yet to be? And how could he sense it, this little river that was yet to come, in the now-flowing waters that eddied round him and flowed through him?

The others in the pool-- Fea. Ghosts, will-o-the-wisps, shades and shadows. He puzzled at them. Glorfindel had been alive in both worlds, this and the wraith or shadow world. These were wraiths only, but not dark; merely grey. Men-folk, on the edge of some journey perhaps, waiting, waiting. Grey and waiting. He wondered, swirling about the shallow pool and mingling with the other currents, where in all of this was his beloved Nimrodel. She could not be far from Mithrellas'; she should be near the spirit of the child. He could not hear her voice; he could not sense her presence. But she had to be here.

He turned to Mithrellas, and waited; her clear, cool agelessness comforted him, as Bella once had with her song. But she did not speak to Amroth, and Amroth wondered; waited, wondered, and watched the grey-brown leaves wafting gently over the silt below.

[mark12_30]

Dead leaves below, glittering sunshine above, and in the water: spirits.

Could Cuivienen have been like this?

There would have been no dead leaves in the silt at the water's floor; the glitter above would have been softer, mirroring only starlight. But the mingling of spirits: yes.

Yes, Cuivienen was like this.

Mellonin lay with her eyes open, staring into the blue sky; yet she slept.

Ravion sat up again as her voice sounded inside his mind. He whispered to her. "Mellonin?"

I walk in the day, yet I walk beneath the stars. Ravion, come walk with me.

He hesitated, but then he lay back down, and waited. He closed his eyes.

He saw the pool. Round it, beside it-- or were they within it?-- walked men, and elves.

Aeron. Little Gwyllion.

He was so glad to see them that he sat bolt upright. THen he ran his hand over his eyes. Mellonin, it was just a dream.

Yes, Ravion. But it is none the less true.

He slept no more til the horses arrived.