Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[littlemanpoet]

"But I must work it out first!"

"Then do so! Fangorn is still far off, and Lorien many leagues away."

"Give me the morning. Let Liornung cheer you with one of his. I wager he has one at the ready always! Or Bellyn can."

Liornung said, "It is my turn, since the both of you have had a go. I'll sing you to and by Fangorn!"

And he did. Soon it was noon. They stopped for a short meal, under the outer reaches of Fangorn. Then they were on their way again, keeping the great wood to their left. Echo led the other horses on a brisk pace, seemingly at the beck of Mellon. Or Amroth. Ædegard was finding it hard to turn his mind to think of the blacksmith as Amroth, but it was beginning to seem necessary so as not to cause undue ire amongst them. And who knew? Maybe it was somehow the truth of the matter.

Toward the middle of the afternoon, Ædegard announced that he had worked up another.

"We gallop on beneath the bows of Fangorn wood,
remembering that many trees once stood
where grasses grow beneath the sun,
where breezes blow and horses run."

"That is all I can manage at a time. You will have to be satisfied with that."

[mark12_30]

Snatches of song drifted past him, but Amroth spoke with the trees as they rode past.

Have you seen Nimrodel? Have you seen my lady? Her mantle is golden-hemmed, her shoes are silver grey. Has she not been here? Her hair is long, her limbs white; she is fair as the moonlight. Has she not danced here? Her voice is falling silver; has she not spoken with you? Have you not heard her sing?

Tree after tree told him nay, and his heart grew heavy again.

She took refuge here, fleeing from the darkness of Moria. Has she not returned? Has she not taken refuge again beneath your branches?

The sun neared the mountaintops, and then sank behind them, and the air grew chill. Echo tossed his head, sometimes looking back at Amroth; Amroth stroked his neck. "Yes, my friend. We can go yet further ere we halt. You are right."

Echo swung into a mile-eating trot, and surrounded by song, Amroth bent his thoughts toward the forest again as the twilight deepened.

[littlemanpoet]

They came to the reiver Entwash and forded it under the stars. Beyond it was a grass covered mound, surrounded by fifteen spears. Ædegard slowed his mount. His eyes were wide and he dismounted. The others noticed him and slowing, turned and came back to him.

Liornung said, "What is it, Ædegard?"

"This place is sacred to the Rohirrim. Here there was a small battle between outriders of Rohan and a few companies of orcs, but on it turned the course of the War of the Ring. As it is sung,

"Éomer and his eotheod caught the uruks
outside the eaves of Fangorn forest.
As Master Meriadoc and proud Peregrin
escaped by outwitting the greed of an orc,
Éomer slew the slaves of Saruman.
Fifteen fearless warriors were felled,
resting in the Mound raised by the Entwash.
The humble Holbitla roused the Ents,
the Tree men tore down Saruman's tyrrany.
So Edoras was spared to save her ally.
Brave deaths, that bought our boon.

"So sing the minstrels of Edoras." Ædegard looked up to Amroth. "My thanks for leading me to this place that I might never have seen otherwise."

Amroth smiled and nodded. "Since we have halted, let us make camp here for a few short hours, under the guard of these brave men."

Liornung

Liornung's eyes travelled over the campsite and he nodded in satisfaction. "'Tis a lovely place to camp, and I am amazed at the feel of the very air, which speaks of Éomer and his company even better than the song you have sung, good Ædegard. I do not mean, of course," he added, his voice hasty and confused, "that the song was not worthy of the place."

"I do think you are correct," Ædegard reassured him. "Not all things can be put into song. The song spoke of this place, yet this place is this place."

"That is," Liornung said, "quite right." He picked up his fiddle with a little smile upon his face. "I'm going to sing a happy little song for you. I have sung too much, I fear, of lost loves and faraway loves and longing loves, things that bring woe and sorrow. What about loves that are there and happily content?" And so he picked up a merry tune and began to sing.

Come all you lads and lassies and listen for awhile.
I'll sing to you a verse or two and try to make you smile.
But if instead you weep with grief, do not be ashamed
for others who have heard this song wept, more than can be named.

Fal-la-do-la-do, fal-al-the-day.

There was lad who rode out one fair and pleasant day.
From Rohan and to Gondor he carelessly did stray.
He had no mind for love or any lassies fair
till he met a maid, soft was her smile, dark was her hair.

Fal-la-do-la-do, fal-al-the-day.

"Oh lassie fair of Gondor, do come away with me,
mount your horse and take my hand and come to my country.
I'll give you all you wish for and sweet home
and rover though I am for you I'll cease to roam.

Fal-la-do-la-do, fal-al-the-day.

"Oh lad with the golden hair, truly I love you
but if I went away what would my poor sick father do?"
"Oh take him lassie, take him if you'll come with me.
I'll give you all you ask for, no want will come to ye.

Fal-la-do-la-do, fal-al-the-day.

The lad left and the lassie followed with her father ill.
They built a house and she truly loved him with a will.
I've told you a happy tale of a young rover
and how he won the heart of the fair maid of Gondor.

Fal-la-do-la-do, fal-al-the-day.
Fal-la-do-la-dee-la-fal-do-lay.

As he ended his song he threw back his head and laughed. "Before any of you speak of it, I do know that my songs are often of wandering rovers and their fair maids, but in all truth so seldom am I in one place for a long time that the only romances I know of are those of the road. Yet I do know of a poor peasant lad who married a poor peasant lass he had loved all his life. I will put the tale into verse a sing it for you on the morrow."

[Orual]

A small fire had been built, and all the members of the odd little traveling band were making themselves comfortable. Aeron and his sister were off in one corner, speaking to each other in low voices, Raefindan was feeding the fire, and Mellonin was lying on her back, gazing up at the stars. Her short, choppy hair, with its thin braid, lay spread out in a sort of aura around her face.

Ravion snorted as he whittled away at a piece of wood. What a group to drag all the way to...where? Rohan? Mellondu, or whatever it was he wanted to be called, was far gone from Rohan. There was no sense in looking for the boy in Edoras. Perhaps they shouldn't even stop. What could the Rohan pubs tell him that he did not already know?

But where could he be headed? There were a number of places north of Rohan for a blacksmith who thought he was an elf to set his sights. Lorien. Mirkwood. Rivendell. Ravion shuddered. He did not want to see the quiet, sad, abandoned thrones of what had once been the greatest race in Middle-earth. He did not want to see the evidence of the decline of the race who had given his people so much.

His head snapped up at the sound of rustling leaves, but it was only Mellonin turning over onto her side. Her large, expressive eyes were full of worry, and it pained Ravion. He swung his leg over the log that he was sitting on and crouched down, sighing and rubbing his hands through his hair. He put a hand to the ground to steady himself as he lowered himself to rest, and he realized that it felt good to have the cool, living earth under his body. He realized further that he didn't mind having company while he slept, even if it was odd company. A snuffle and a low growl brought a qualifier to that: he didn't mind having the company, except for that idiot dog. What was he supposed to do with a dog? He rolled his eyes irritably and prepared his bedroll.

"Who wants first watch?" he called.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin took a breath to say "I will watch, " but Raefindan said it first.

"Are you certain? I can take the first watch," she said.

He shook his head. "I should be tired, but... "

"The dreams."

He nodded. The dog nudged his hand. "And this fellow needs a bath, too."

"All right, " said Mellonin, wanting nothing to do with it.

"Downstream, " growled Ravion.

"I should think so, " Raefindan chuckled. "Come on, mangy."

Ravion and Mellonin exchanged puzzled glances, but Raefindan laughed. "I'll be right back. This should only take a few minutes."

"You will not dry quickly this late in the season, " said Ravion.

Raefindan considered the cur, picked up a stick, and threw it into the stream. It took some urging, but the dog followed. Six or eight fetches later, the mud was rinsed off, and the cur was playing tag with Raefindan. Gond tossed his head and snorted when the dog got too close.

"I can't call you mangy, anymore, can I? Maybe I'll call you Fang. Or Fangless."

Mellonin rolled up in her cloak and two blankets, putting her back to the game of tag. She was a little afraid of her own dreams, and lay awake for a while wondering how long Aeron would stay with them, and what Ravion would do if Aeron escaped. Finally she drifted off.

[mark12_30]

Amroth shook out the cloak and blanket that Ædegard had brought for him, and offered to take the first watch. "But first, Lady Bellyn, grant me a request."

She started. "My lord?"

"Fear me not, Lady, " he said, with a gentle bow. "The long day has held deep voices, and my heart yearns for a gentler song. Would you sing, lady?"

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Bellyn blushed at Amroth’s request. She’d heard many songs in her lifetime, yet there were few that she remembered well. In fact, there were few that Bellyn remembered at all. Although not as talented as Liornung or Ædegard, Bellyn could not find it in her heart to refuse Amroth's request. It was such a simple request, after all.

"I have not a way with melody as Liornung does," Bellyn warned, a smile on her face. Looking over to Ædegard, her smile grew when she added, "Nor do I have Ædegard's way with rhyme." Bellyn turned back to Amroth. "But I shall do ask you ask! I remember very few songs, though there are many that I've been priviledged to enjoy. This one I remember the best, and I remember most of it, for my brothers liked to sing it with light hearts and high spirits --

"I am a jovial ranger,
I fear no kind of danger,
To sorrow I'm a stranger,
And so let mirth abound.
I once had a fit of loving,
But, that contrary proving,
It set my mind a-roving
To travel the country round!

When first of all I started,
From all my friends I parted,
All almost broken hearted,
Alas! what grief I found!
Till Rohan had fairly touched me,
No part of comfort reached me,
The blue sky had surely bewitched me
To travel the country round!

When up to Rohan I wandered
A deal of money I squandered,
I masters tried a hundred,
No work was to be found.
And as I wandered up and down,
Some called me "a fool,"
some "country clown,"
And bade me get out of their fine town
To travel the country round!

Now I grew quite dejected,
As well might be expected,
Myself I then directed
To Nordol, and was "bound."
As soon as I had arrived there,
Some work for me was contrived there,
And I for awhile was depriv'd there,
From trav'lling the country round!

Six months, or more, I tarried,
Till of Nordol I grew wearied,
My roaming fancy fired
To see some other town.
To the Mark then I hasted,
A week or more I wasted,
As long as my money lasted
I travelled the country round.

So now in the Mark my station;
And here, to my vexation,
A foolish new temptation
To rest awhile I found.
A maid I met so pretty,
So good, so wise, so witty,
I thought it were surely a pity
To travel the country round.

Now I the case must alter,
For fear that I should falter,
And be led in a halter
To kirk (a dismal sound!)
I made a resolution,
Which I put in execution,
It suited my constitution
To travel the country round.

So now at home I'm seated,
My travels are all completed,
These words I have repeated,
So awhile I'll sit me down;
Quite cured of all my moving,
As well as of all my loving,
I'll go no more a roving
To travel the country round..."

Bellyn finished, her cheeks more red than when she had begun her song, embarrassed to be singing in the company of someone as skilled in song as Liornung was. Bellyn sat down, looking up and hiding her discomfort with words, "I remember some others, though. My father always brought home new tunes he'd pick up as he traveled. The Lay of Nimrodel was my mother's favorite, he said. Then he also knew a lot of songs from Gondor..." Bellyn's voice trailed off as she stopped herself from rambling on.