Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[Orual]

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to." Faran leapt to his feet, more than eager to get away from the half-drunk Ranger who had assaulted him. Ravion rolled his eyes in a long-suffering sort of way and grabbed Faran by the arm, forcing him back into his seat.

"First off, shouldn't you take things one step at a time? Whatever business you have to attend to can wait until our business is done." Faran sighed deeply, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. "And sit up straight. Sitting straight and walking tall shows people that you have your dignity, if nothing else." Ravion's eyes went distant for a moment, and he hoped that Faran could not tell that with that sentance, he was no longer talking about the youth. He ran his hand through his hair, breaking out of his reverie, and looked at Faran. Sensing that the boy was about to make a break for it, he added, "Even if you are a thief."

His repetition of that accusation was apparently rubbing Faran the wrong way. With a look of exasperation, he exclaimed, "I've told you again and again, I'm not a--"

"--not a thief. You've told me again and again, and I've heard you again and again. I may be a little hung over, but I'm neither deaf nor stupid, regardless of what you may think of me. Nor am I inexperienced. I saw the look on your face when you were quarrelling with that boy. You think I've never stolen anything before?" He broke off abruptly at that, wondering why he had admitted that to Faran. Not only did it diminish him in the eyes of the youth, but the circumstances had been different. Very different! If he hadn't stolen that horse, he never would have gotten to the battle on time...besides, it wasn't like the man hadn't had more than enough horses. And he would have returned the horse, but he couldn't find the man after the war was over...

He glared at Faran, both challenging and wary, waiting for the boy's response. If there was so much as a smirk on Faran's face, he'd slap it off of him.

[littlemanpoet]

Minas Tirith: Raefindan

Raefindan watched the Ranger rise from the table quickly and block the youth's way. The youth glowered at him.

Raefindan knew that he should have made Mellonin take responsibility for her own curiosity, but he couldn't help being gallant. Responsibility. Gallant. More words they don't use much around here. Raefindan shook his head and came up to the Ranger and laid a hand on the youth's shoulder.

"Ravion? Greetings. I am Raefindan. I see you have the youth well in hand."

The youth turned a baleful eye on Raefindan. "Unhand me, barhop!"

"He needs to be taken well in hand," the Ranger responded. "Well met, Raefindan." The Ranger kept an eye on the youth. What do you say we do a Frodo and Sam to this Gollum?" The youth looked positively indignant.

Raefindan's eyes went wide. "Did you say Frodo and Sam? I've heard those names before! And a clever idea at that, if I take you aright."

"I should hope so! They're famous. If you hadn't, I would wonder where you'd hidden these last few years."

They walked the youth to a chair and sat him down, then pulled a pair of chairs away from the table and placed one on each side of him, and talked over him.

"This is not funny! It's unjust! You have no right to hold me this way!"

Raefindant talked over the youth's protests. "That's just the thing, Ravion. I don't know where I've been before about a week ago. Yet it's positively amazing what I recognize and recall. Such as Frodo of the Nine Fing- now see there? You didn't even say that, yet I remember vividly! It's as if I was at the Cracks of Doom myself!"

"I would not envy you that," Ravion replied. "Speaking of things forgotten and remembered, there was something I was supposed to say here."

Just then the youth bolted. He scrambled under the table, forcing the two tall men to pivot around it. The youth sprinted for the door and looked like he was going to make a clean getaway. A foot appeared before the door and tripped him, sending him sprawling. Ravion was right behind the youth. He sat on him.

"Good work, Mellonin. Clever of you to sneak around and cut off the boy's escape."

"I have a name, you know," the youth said in an injured tone.

"Let's have it then," Raefindant said.

"Faran. Not Gollum, thank you very much."

Rohan: Mellon/Amroth

Ædegard regarded Liornung and Bellyn. A fiddler minstrel and an artist. The artist could track. And he being a wheelwright added a perfect third to the triangle of seemingly worthless skills for catching a mad blacksmith. He shook his head. Better to have them near where he could keep an eye on them than out of sight and a possible danger. Or distraction. Of course, their music and talk might prove distraction enough as it was. This Liornung certainly had a gift for turning a simple thought into a spun out string of endless words. It might just prove to be an overtiresome companionship. He would have to make the best of it.

"You may come with me. If the lady can track, as you say, that is good." He turned north without another word and let them catch up to him. He was not about to make conversation. It was not his way, unless he was in a tavern and at least one good pint down his gullet to loosen his tongue. Wheelwrighting was silent work, and he liked it so. Tracking a mad blacksmith had all the appearance of being a tongue wagging time. He hoped not.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin considered Ravion. "Welcome, sir, to the Seventh Star. I'd offer you a seat but it seems you've found one; although you might prefer something that thrashes less?"

Ravion gave Mellonin a cold stare. She turned her attention to his captive. "These rangers... Very difficult to argue with, aren't they? Especially when they've had an ale or two. I don't envy you in the least."

Ravion's gaze softened just a little. She looked back at him. "Can I get you an ale, sir? Assuming you're quite comfortable?"

"Not very. But I'll take the ale." He fished a coin out of his pocket, and tossed it to Mellonin.

She turned back to the thief. "And you? Are you going to buy a drink as well?"

The lad glared at her and shook his head. "Up to you, " Mellonin said. "But sir, if you wouldn't mind waiting just a little for that ale--"

Ravion looked up at her, with a slight shrug. She disappeared out the door.

"All right. You can let me up now, " Faran said.

"I don't have my ale," said Ravion.

Mellonin returned carrying a bucket and said, "Perhaps if you shift him so his head is outside the door--"

Raefindan and Ravion shared a quick grin. Ravion caught Faran by one arm and Raefindan took the other, and Faran kicked in protest while they dragged him outside. Then they held him down again, and Mellonin slowly and carefully poured the bucket of icy well-water over the lad's head.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Not quite surprised at Ædegard's grumpy persona, Bellyn shrugged as the man trotted off without much approval of her or Liornung. The artist followed Liornung's lead as his horse went off to catch up with Ædegard. Bellyn had seen many interactions between people at the Inns she'd been to, but she was most intrigued by the complete contrast between Liornung and Ædegard. The three went on their route north, and to Bellyn the adventure seemed incredibly surreal, for all the places she'd drawn on maps or for her own art were alive in front of her for the first time. Colors were more distinct, sounds and smells began to fit into the visions Bellyn had drawn so many times, and Bellyn felt at home even in the new environment.

"Liornung?" Bellyn prompted, and the fiddler looked over at her expectantly. His blue eyes were sparkling like the stars she'd seen many nights walking home after spending long hours in an Inn drawing. "You've been around many people..." Bellyn murmured, but quickly continued after realizing how strange her comment was. "What I mean is, you know how to speak to others and change if you have to so that everyone is comfortable. How is it that Ædegard doesn't seem very amiable, but you know how to interact and, well...deal with other people?"

"Deal? You say it as if it were a deck of cards that must be handled in order to get any good out of a game," Liornung pointed out, and Bellyn's pale cheeks flushed.

"Is that not how it is though?" Bellyn wondered, looking up ahead to Ædegard. "We speak with him only so that we do not have to stalk him like a hungry dog. And, like cards, it makes things easier for us, in a way." Bellyn stopped short, feeling silly for defending such a notion, even if it were her own. "I've spent long days alone at the different Inns, watching people talk and laugh and get in fights and arguments." The girl explained, hoping Liornung would understand or not think her crazy in the process.

"Perhaps sir Ædegard is not used to company, as you are not," Liornung offerred. Bellyn thought on this as Liornung continued. "Certainly he is not used to the company of complete strangers. Maybe he wishes to pursue this task alone. Whatever the reason, we do not know Ædegard well enough to make quick judgements," Liornung finished, stroking his horse's mane. Bellyn nodded and felt admiration towards Liornung for being so subtle and caring in his words, and after talking to him Bellyn always felt like she'd learned a bit of a lesson.

"In any case," Bellyn thought aloud, looking over at Liornung once more. "You're completely right. I should not judge on first impressions. I just hope Ædegard can learn to trust us."

[Orual]

Ravion kept a tight grip on Faran's arm as water gushed from Mellonin's bucket onto the young would-be thief's head. Oh, but how the boy struggled and thrashed...but with Ravion on one side, and Raefindan on the other, he had no means of escaping the cascade.

As Faran spluttered and spat, Ravion glanced at Mellonin. He hoped that she was not offended by his curt, somewhat cold manner when they were introduced, but something about her gave him pause. He could not pinpoint it, or even, if asked, tell what sense it was that told him something was not altogether aright. He could not say his 'heart', or his 'gut', or any of those physical terms used to describe an odd, unnamed sensation. It was not that in appearance she was anything out of the norm, but something about her had caught his eye when he entered the Inn, and something about her now set him off his ease. If it did not sound like he was out of his wits, he might have said that when he saw her, something came up behind him and touched him, telling him to watch this girl--she was something different entirely.

So as Faran thrashed around, he watched Mellonin from just below his eyelids, hoping that she did not notice, but unable to look back at the youth that he was now having more trouble holding in check. What was it about her?

[Imladris]

Things were not going well, to say the least. Aeron writhed under the stream of icy water that flowed over his head and slithered under his shirt in rivers. “Stop it,” he shrieked. He would have said more, but the chilled water gagged him. Coughing and spluttering, he felt himself heaved to his feet and thrown into a chair. “Villains!” he gasped, wiping his dripping hair from his eyes. “Fine! I tried to steal the hat!”

His breath heaving, and his clothes clinging to him like the feathers of a bedraggled bird, he glared at the three people who had foiled his catch and kept him prisoner. His heart chilled and his eyes darted to the door. If they found out the true reason about why I tried to steal that hat…

He glared at each one of them under his brows. The man Raefindan with the scarlet hair. A snicker escaped him as the thought of his sister flitted across his mind. But who was he? No race of Middle-earth that he had heard of had this colour hair. He felt a bright beam of inspiration: unless he had discovered a fabulous root and had somehow dyed it. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the thin man. It was would have been much better if he, instead of Ravion, had caught him. In Raefindan’s hands, he would have been like a slippery fish. He shrugged. Nothing for it now.

He stared at Mellonin with the air of an injured puppy. She, of all people, had been the one to drive him to his ruin. It was her foot that had kicked escape away from him, her hand that had guided the bucket. And what had he ever done to her? “Why ever did you do it, milady?” He asked.

“I thought you could do with a good bath,” she answered, her eyes twinkling.

Naturally.

Ravion: Aeron’s eyes nearly disappeared under his frown; all that remained was a malignant glint. The man was shrewd, keen to see the web of lies that Aeron had woven, and he had the weight of an blasted oxe fattened for slaughter. Aeron’s back still ached when the man had sat on him: sat on him . At the humiliating thought, he flushed crimson and slouched in his chair. What was it the brute had been saying to him before Raefindan had interrupted? You think I’ve never stolen anything before? Aeron’s head snapped back, and the frown faded. The man had stolen as well. But why was it alright for him to steal? Because he was a ranger? At the thought, the frown instantly settled again, while his lips curled into a smirk. So this is what this ranger was: a man who spoke high words disapproving of the thief, yet who participated in the deed himself. Aeron laughed. The man was nothing but rising bread dough.

“I suppose you wouldn’t care to divulge your real name to us?” Ravion said, his face full of boredom.

Aeron considered protesting the question, but then decided another bath wasn’t worth the trouble. “Aeron,” he replied.

[mark12_30]

Apparently the boy expected to be called Aeron now, instead of Faran. Mellonin wondered whether the name change was a daily occurance. Aeron's eyes smouldered with resentment, and the ranger looked less than happy. Raefindan was a little on the damp side.

Mellonin smiled brightly, and turned to the ranger. "Well, good sir, " and she fished the coin out of her pocket and juggled it in her hand, "your patience is remarkable, and now I will hasten to bring you your due." She went to the bar and poured a large frothy ale. Then she went to the counter, and reached underneath for the bag to deposit the coin.

Somehow, it settled differently. Her eyes came up above the counter and she glared at the boy, still seated between the ranger and the red-haired man; the hatless, hapless thief met her gaze, and froze.

Holding his gaze, she picked up the bag. Hefting it, she paced one step at a time from behind the counter towards the threesome. Ravion watched her approach.

She picked up a dirty soup bowl in her free hand as she walked past a table. Morien saw what she was carrying, and came to watch. Ravion moved nearer the boy, guessing he would bolt.

Mellonin drew up a small table near the three . She put the bowl and the bag on the table, and then drew up a chair and sat facing Aeron. . Ravion glared, Raefindan tried not to laugh, and Aeron tried to look innocent. Mellonin put her elbows on the table, interlaced her fingers and rested her chin on her knuckles. "What have we here, hmmmm? Perhaps you can tell me."

Aeron shrugged.

Mellonin opened the drawstring, and slowly poured the contents of the bag into the dirty soup bowl. From the very top of the bag, several coins dropped out, clinking muddily into the film of soup. The coins were followed by a steady clatter of pebbles and stones.

Mellonin set the empty bag down beside the bowl of rocks, put her chin back onto her knuckles, raised her eyebrows and smiled at the boy.

[Imladris]

Just when it couldn’t have gotten any worse. Aeron watched the dirty stones and pebbles clatter into the bowl with a sinking heart. Mellonin tossed the bag away and then watched him with a mocking smile. “It’s odd that coins and stones would be mixed together in a money bag,” he observed. He leaned back in his chair, raised his eyebrows, and stared at Mellonin.

“I was hoping you could explain that,” she said with a small smile.

Aeron glanced at her, his spirits sagging under the heavy gaze of his three opponents. Why did it have be this way? He should have just taken the inn money and gone back home...He shook his head. He had broken one of the principal laws of thievery and now he was receiving his just rewards. “And what makes you think I have anything to do with this?” Aeron asked, resisting the urge to fidget. He would have bolted through the nearby window, but Ravion or Raefindan would have caught him, and maybe subjected him to a worse deed than a bucket of water. A thrashing perhaps. Aeron’s smile faltered at the thought. Tracing the grain of the wooded table with a grimy finger, he said, glancing at Ravion and cocking an accusatory eyebrow at him, “I’m not the only thief in the Inn.”