Friends Of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams, Part 2 RPG

[mark12_30]

On and on the elf ran, down, down, beside the glowing stream. Through the ice the stream ran, than through rocks and over sand; lower down on the slopes, the deep green of moss lay beneath the silver sheen, and grass grew along her sides. Still she sang, and still the elf ran by her side. The sun set; she sang beneath the stars; he ran on.

Dawn came, and the elf slowed to a walk in the golden light. The silver voice sang beside him, and his voice began to mingle with hers. The forest neared. The golden leaves were falling from the trees, and some fell into the stream, and floated away beneath the stars. He came to the forest eaves. Golden buds swelled on the branches. Moss flourished along the stream banks; the stream was deep and cold, and her song remained silver. She danced down rocks and rushed over rapids, and the silver song went cascading on, til they came to one more waterfall over golden rocks; the song shimmered and sparkled like stars in the coldest night, and her silver laughter fell into a shining pool.

The elf stopped beside the pool, knelt, and drank; then he sat on the bank, and listened. Another elf appeared, and they nodded a greeting, but did not speak. Another elf came, and another; women and warriors came out of the wood, and without speaking (but with much laughter) together they began a circle dance. Across the waterfall at the top of the pool, around the north of the pool, and across the second waterfall at the bottom, around the south of the pool and back to the top waterfall, their steps quickened and their laughter rippled and blended with the stream.

A new note sounded in the stream. You are true. I choose to trust you. The dance changed; it had been merry and glad; now it held a more solemn joy. The elves laughed less and smiled more, and now they began to sing. As the flowers sprang in the grass, the song rose among the tree branches, and the golden mallorn blossoms opened. Fragrance swept southward on the wind. The song of the stream, cold silvery joy, rode the same wind southwards toward the sea.

[mark12_30]

Southward towards the sea...

The mountainside elf slipped from the dance, and followed the stream. The circledance song faded from his ears even as it took root in his heart, and ran like sap through his veins. Beside the stream he ran, as it swept through Lorien west to east; golden leaves beneath his feet, golden blossoms drenching the air with fragrance; silver stream glistening like cold moonlight under the sun.

Ever and anon he paused, and bent towards the stream, and drank the glowing shimmer; ever the laughter welled up in his heart, but none escaped his lips. Instead his heart soared, and he exulted in his strength even as he caressed the stream. The song grew, lilting laughter, rippling song that rivalled the sweetest nightingale.

Down the stream flowed; down the mountain-elf ran; til the stream joined the mighty Anduin, where the elf paused, and stood on the bank, and watched the water, the silver laughing moonlight, flow past and blend with the seaward rush. As the sun sank into the horizon, the elf stretched tall, feeling the song vibrating in his veins; then he turned southward, dove into the rushing mighty river, and swam southward immersed in the moonlit song.

[mark12_30]

Raefindan, gazing up at the stars, closed his eyes. Mithrellas watched him, and knew that he trembled with the strength of great joy, and that his blood sang in his veins.

She understood.

[mark12_30]

Nimrodel stirred, and her grey eyes opened, and looked up at Amroth. His gaze met hers.

She spoke. "I thought I loved the stream more than anyone else ever could."

"You loved the stream for its own sake, " he said. "But I loved it for your sake. Which love was the greater, who can tell?"

"I loved the banks and the rocks, the trees and the pool, and the waterfalls. But you loved the water?"

"And the journey. The long, daring, self-forsaking journey."

"That is what you call me to now, is it not?"

He nodded. "Will you follow me as I followed you; will you seek me as I sought you." He spoke without fear, and she knew her own heart.

She closed her eyes again.

[mark12_30]

The stream turned around the bend and joined with the Anduin.

Wider, broader, deeper, in a long slow sweep, the song turned southward. Leaves tumbled in it; weeds waved in it; the mountain-elf was swept joyously along. Sometimes he lay on the shimmering surface, and watched the tree-laden banks sweep by; sometimes he plunged to see the rocks or the sand. Sometimes he chased the leaves, laughing. Silver trout nosed him as he passed; some swam beside him, and he spoke with them, or sang to them. At night he sang to the stars, or to the moon if he hung low on the horizon tangled in the trees. Three days and three nights passed.

Soon the song of the river steepened; the mountain-elf turned to watch his ways, now, as rocks sped past. Around the rocks the river rushed, hurrying, laughing aloud. Soon the laughing became a shout. Around one rock, around another, the mountain elf raced with the skill and agility of an otter. He spared no breath for singing, now, but swam downward through Sarn Gebir flanked by laughing trout.

All around him the silver song grew in strength and power, and the trout shared it, and the moon echoed it, and the banks flew past.

Then slowly it grew quiet again. The water widened, the downward rush slowed to a steady quiet flow. For another day, the mountain-elf took a well-earned rest, surrounded by a school of trout that sang softly to him as he rested on his back and gazed at the silver sky. Then once again the song grew in power, but still he lay on his back and the school of trout paced him. Faster and faster they swept, til far overhead two vast and mighty warriors stood watch. He greeted them with joy as he sped between them, tiny next to their vast feet. They hid the moon as they slowly passed overhead.

Quiet came again as they swept into a broad and peaceful bay, and the silver trout sang once more; but in the distance thunder brewed. THe mountain elf rested, and gathered his strength.



***


"He cannot pass the falls!" gasped Taitheneb. Ravion struggled to his feet; Mellonin stood by his side. Together they watched Amroth's face.

Raefindan shook his head. "His flesh long since ceased to trouble him." But there was doubt in his voice.

Erebemlin remained deep in thought.

Indil spoke. "Will he swim the falls?"

It was the cracked and wizened voice of Nimrodel that answered. "I shall bear him."

Erebemlin trembled.

Behind them, Ædegard drew near. "Courage, Lady. But remember that you bear the weight of two; and one remains mortal."

[mark12_30]

Slowly, all the men drew near. Raefindan had stood by, and Indil; and near them Ravion and Mellonin; but now Ædegard, Argeleafa, Liornung, Bellyn, and Nethwador stepped closer; Gwyllion and Aeron clasped hands and stood over the water.

Taitheneb went to Erebemlin, and waited. The air was still in the glade, and the fall at the foot of the pool murmured softly in the midmorning sun.

Mithrellas alone seemed at peace.

***

The rumbling drew nearer; it was a faroff army, a wall of storm.

Nimrodel's lips twitched; her eyelids fluttered; slowly she stirred.

Erebemlin trembled, and Taitheneb frowned.

***

The mountain elf gazed restfully at the sky, his back to the falls. From the gates of the kings, the north wind swirled; high above rode the hawks. Beneath and beside him the silver trout sang.

"Let us turn back, " said the blacksmith.

The school of trout slowed, and their song faltered.

"There is yet time, " said the boy. "We can return to your stream, and there abide through the long ages. I will stay with you always."

"Amroth, " said Erebemlin.

"Come back with me, " said the blacksmith. "Nimrodel, let us return to the trees and the riverbanks you loved, and to your own shining waterfall that sings so sweetly and so gently. Not to this, not this wrath."

"Amroth!" said Erebemlin.

"Leave him, " pleaded the boy. "Come with me. I do not ask you to die! I ask you, bide with me, and live! I will never leave you! Do not leave me!"

"Amroth!" Erebemlin shouted, and his eyes snapped upen. "Return him to me! What have you done?"

Nimrodel struggled out of Erebemlin's arms, rose to her feet, and turned to face Mellondu. "Mellondu, do not speak so, " she said. But Erebemlin leapt to his feet also, and Erebemlin's voice rose and filled the glen. "Return him to us, " Erebemlin cried. "Return-- Amroth, return to us! Amroth! Amroth!"

There was no wind, but the massive elf's golden hair swirled about him as if from the heat of a fire. "Amroth!" he roared in desperation, and strode to Mellondu, who shrank from him in fear. The elf filled the glade with golden flame, and his voice and his eyes were fire; Mellondu screamed and writhed. Erebemlin took the blacksmith's shoulders and lifted him til they were face to face; still he called to Amroth; stilll the blacksmith screamed.

Raefindan stood frozen as the fires of Erebemlin raked through the soul of the blacksmith desperately seeking his king. One breath passed; two, three; four; and now Raefindan spoke. "Release him!"

Mellondu's cries slowly abated; he shook like a leaf and wept in terror. Erebemlin held him still; but the elf shone no longer; he had gone suddenly cold.

Nimrodel raised her wizened face and gazed at Erebemlin. "The king is not here, " she said. "My lord is gone. Trouble the boy no more."

[mark12_30]

"Trouble?" said Erebemlin, gazing bewildered at her. He did not move at first. Then slowly he lowered blacksmith to the ground.

Raefindan stepped forward, grasping Erebemlin's shoulder with one hand and Mellondu's shoulder with the other. Mellonin, as if suddenly woken from a dream, gazed from face to face, and then reached for Mellondu.

Mellondu gazed now at Nimrodel, and she waited. Slowly his fear and pain abated; he trembled now under her silver gaze. He pleaded with her. "Let us leave the river, and return to the stream; the shadow is gone; you are free; I am free. We can dwell there again in peace. Nimrodel, Nimrodel, sweet Silversong, let us go back home, and there dwell. I will never leave you."

Erebemlin and Taitheneb listened with icy and sinking hearts. Mithrellas turned to Nimrodel and waited.

Ædegard spoke. "Mellondu, you cannot. She cannot. Do not speak so." Liornung and Bella began to plead with Mellondu, but Nimrodel raised her hand.

She stepped forward to him, and stood before him; the young blacksmith and the wizened crone. Yet as they watched, and she spoke, her voice came clearer. "Darklove, heed me. I shall not allow you to enter the same prison I dwelt in for these thousand years."

"I love you, " Mellondu said.

She nodded. "You speak truly. Yet it shall not be as you wish; I shall go west; and you shall remain. I wish you joy, Mellondu; there are those here who love you as I cannot. Your sister," she said, nodding at Mellonin, "and your friends, and those at home. You must remain with them and for them."

"I will die without you, " he said.

She straightened her back and stood taller. "I hope not; not, at least, until your hundred years are past. And now, young Darklove, I must carry you down the falls."

Erebemlin and Taitheneb stood numbly by, too lost in their grief to know what came next. But Mithrellas watched with shining eyes as Nimrodel stood straighter, taller, stronger by the moment. Her eyes seemed to clear. Her skin seemed less heavy. The wind, coming now from the south, caught her silvery-golden hair and lifted it. And now the mortals saw her changing, and Raefindan and Indil began to sing the song of the stream. Straighter and taller she stood; her eyes shone like the moon on the water; her skin was as smooth as the stream at dawn; her hair streamed in the wind; and she began to sing. Though it was nearing mid-day, moonlight filled the glade. She stepped forward and took Mellondu's hand as if he were a child.