Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung cast one last bewildered look in the direction Amroth had gone then took Bellyn's hand. "Come along," he said. "We will go to the wayfarer camp, but we must be brief. I do not like to leave him alone for long." They went over the ground to the place the wayfarers had camped, leading their tired horses behind them. A broad smile came to Liornung's face when he saw many people, their features both fair and dark, going here and there, preparing to leave. "This is a surprise, but pleasant," he said. "Most wayfarer bands I have encountered have been Easterlings, but I see many of my own race here, and Gondorians as well."

A young girl came walking confusedly towards them, an empty pail in her hand. She was of Rohan if one was to judge by her features, for she was tall, fair-haired, and blue-eyed. She studied them dubiously, glanced over her shoulder, and seemed to come to a decision about something. "Excuse me, sirs," she said in a low voice, "but do you know of any stream nearby?"

"So I do," Liornung said with another of his odd bows. "We camped by one last night; it is over yonder." He gestured in the direction of their campsite. She began walking vaguely that way, a cloud of confusion on her face, but he stopped her. "Wait a moment, Miss," he said. "Might I have the honor of learning you name?"

"Argeleafa," she replied shortly, dropping her eyes shyly.

"That is a lovely name. Yet.... if you do not mind me being bold, Miss Argeleafa, I have been impressed by your attitude that you are quite new to the wayfarers."

A blush came to her cheeks and her eyes flamed, but just as quickly she paled and ducked her head quite low. "I must confess, sir, it is so."

"I trust you did not run away to join them?"

"Oh, sir, who would be mad enough...?" A startled look sprang to her face and she stared up at him. "I am only with them because my father, who wandered in his younger days, took a fancy to join them. My mother also did, and so did I. They passed our town just five weeks ago. I have been with them that time and no longer."

"Do you enjoy the life?"

"It seems to me like most other lives. In some ways it is fine, in some ways it is dreadful." She seemed reluctant to say more, but Liornung gently encouraged her. "I do not wish to speak ill of anyone," she said, "for my mother taught me against it, yet... there are some people who do not care for us. They won't feed us when we're hungry and scorn us.... Sometimes we steal." Her lip trembled at this confession.

"I won't say it's good to steal," Liornung said briskly, patting her shoulder, "but you must admit those people deserved it. Hunger is an awful thing."

She did not seem to know what to say to this, so instead she turned her head and her eyes widened. "Oh, sir, I really must go fetch that water. See, they're beginning to go off this very moment!"

"Don't fear," he said, taking the pail from her. "I'll fetch your water for you, and we'll walk with you for awhile. We have a friend to catch up with. I'd like to meet the rest of your company. But again I forget my manners. Ædegard will introduce us all, and I will be back soon."

[mark12_30]

Mellonin watched as Gwillion considered Raefindan and the dog.... Jorje. Her eyes twinkled.

Aeron glanced from Gwillion to Raefindan, waiting, hoping, reassuring his sister with glance and touch. Ravion watched out of the corner of his eye.

Gwillion stared at the dog, and thought, and thought. A few tears of fear escaped her, but she gathered her courage, and began to approach Raefindan... and the dog.

Mellonin smiled, remembering Raefindan's puzzling comment back at the Inn. Well, by George, I think you've got it! She giggled. Ravion looked up at her in surprise, and she giggled again. Ravion's gaze grew more puzzled still, so she quenched the laughter, and composing herself, turned to watch Gwillion.

[Imladris]

Gwyllion swallowed and crept towards Raefindan and the beast he held. The dog can’t hurt me…the strange red haired man is holding it… She held out her hand. The dog snuffed it. His nose was wet: disgustingly wet. Then his red tongue flicked out and he began to lick her fingers. She cringed, and pulled her hand away.

“Why did you do that?” Raefindan asked. His voice was soft, comforting, gentle.

“His tongue is slimy,” Gwyllion said. She was going to say that the dogs licked their food, but realized that wasn’t quite true. The dog was friendly. But that friendliness could be a mask covering malevolent purposes. She narrowed her eyes and frowned at the dog.

“Pet him,” Raefindan urged. “He won’t hurt you.”

Won’t? “Won’t,” she repeated slowly.

Raefindan blushed, and said, “He will not hurt you.”

Gwyllion nodded and stuck out her hand again. With one careful finger, she scratched his head. She smiled. It was a nice dog, she supposed. Besides, what harm could one fang do? "Jorge," she whispered.

[mark12_30]

Echo was a fine companion; peaceful, friendly, unassuming. They waded through the long grass. Amroth laid his hand on Echo's mane, fingers twisted in the strands, and let his eyes close, bending his thoughts all along the edge of the plains. Here and there, he met other thoughts; but always, he moved on.

Mid-morning, his feet stumbled, and he opened his eyes. Echo nuzzled him.

"I am weary, " he whispered. "Why am I so weary?"

Not far in front of him ran a small stream. Beside the stream stood a long and slender horse, a lighter chestnut and taller than Echo. Beside the horse, a thin, grimy, ragged boy frowned at him and took a step backwards.

The horse wore a tattered saddle-blanket and a frayed rope tied round his chin, and that was all. The boy wore several layers of rags that hung loosely off of his body, and had a large bag at one hip.

Amroth greeted him in the Rohirric tongue, but the boy's frown only deepened. He tried Sindarin; no response. An Easterling, then. Long separated from his tribe, or so it seemed. He bent his thoughts toward the boy.

I will not harm you. I will drink from the stream.

The boy shrank away. Amroth walked upstream from the boy, and let Echo drink while he filled his water bottle. Watching the boy with his thoughts, he lay on his stomach, and drank his fill. Then he stood, and looked at the boy.

The boy stood gaping at Amroth, and Amroth gazed back at him, puzzled. The boy seemed to bear him none of the tribal ill-will that he might have expected from an Easterling. He searched deeper into the boy's thoughts. Fear, loneliness, sadness, and cold. He frowned, and looked at the boy again.

Do you have a name?

The boy frowned again, and Amroth pressed his thoughts. What shall I call you?

Pig.

You are a man, and no beast.

They call me Boar. Or Pig.

They speak falsely, for you are neither. Who cares for you?

The boy gave no answer, and Amroth approached him.

Have you no companions, no friends?

Silence, within and without. Amroth grieved for the boy, and the boy saw the compassion in his eyes. He pointed at Amroth.

Amroth smiled. "Mellon." Friend. It is what men call elves around here, or so it would seem.

The lad grinned. "Mellon. Mellon?" His delight was evident.

Amroth smiled at him, and nodded. "We are friends, then. Well met."

The boy answered in a harsh tongue, and Amroth waved goodbye, crossed the stream and continued north.

He heard hoofbeats approaching behind him, and a smile crossed his face. He looked over his shoulder, and there jogging after him on his lanky chestnut was the skinny grimy boy. When Amroth halted and looked up at him, he halted too, and stared.

Amroth turned north again, and smiled at Echo. The lad tagged along.

[littlemanpoet]

Ædegard trailed Liornung and Bellyn. He had gotten used to them, except for one thing, he now understood. He would never get used to the ease of Liornung going up to aliens and strangers as if they were neighbors. He hung back and watched Liornung speak with the Rohirric girl. What was she doing with these wayfarers? What were these Rohirrim doing with Easterlings? It was disloyalty to King Eomer and all of Rohan!

Ædegard overheard Liornung say that he would introduce the three of them to the girl's folk. The sun would set in the east first. He would have nothing to do with them. He stayed where he was.

"Liornung! We must go! Amroth walks ahead of us and will fall ill if he takes no rest! We must find him! Leave these folk to themselves! They cannot be trusted!"

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung started and stared at Ædegard in a puzzled fashion. A brief flash of anger passed through his eyes and some of his usual friendliness was lacking when he spoke. "Leave Amroth to himself, then," he replied. "Perhaps he cannot be trusted." Ædegard looked taken aback and Liornung colored instantly. "Pardon my harsh words, friend," he murmured. "I was startled and surprised by your words. I had not expected you to speak thus." He looked at Argeleafa and saw she had drawn back in fear at the words of both Liornung and Ædegard. He smiled gently and comfortingly at her, then turned back to Ædegard. "Go to Amroth if you wish," he said. "I will not be long in joining you. This lass is not fit for the life these wayfarers lead. She is Rohirric as myself, not Easterling. Her father had no business taking her from her home. She has been sent to fetch water and she does not know where to go, and I'll hang on a high tree before I let such a lass go by without helping her."

Bellyn, too, seemed startled by the way Liornung spoke but did not show her fear as strongly as the girl did. It was clear to see the young fiddler felt very deeply about these wayfarers and was annoyed with Ædegard.

Argeleafa made a movement as if to leave but Liornung stopped her. "Miss Argeleafa, you would not leave without your water? Come down to the stream with me and we will fetch it. Ædegard, Bellyn, you go catch up with Amroth and see if you detain him. I also fear for him at times." Ædegard and Bellyn began to move off. "And, good Ædegard, please do pardon my harshness. Let me tell you a tale of these wayfarers, if you will, when I rejoin you."

He took Argeleafa's hand as if she were a little child and led her down to the stream. "Sir," she said with some spirit, "you needn't help me. I may not be fit for the wayfarer life but I trust I can carry a pail of water well enough."

"Ah yes, but to find a stream is a different matter. I also wished to speak with you about something very important. My friend Ædegard does not like to see Rohirric people wandering about with Easterlings. I do not say I agree with him entirely, for he feels strongly about his country and those in it. Perhaps he thinks it is wrong of them. I merely find it strange that those of Rohan and even of Gondor would feel differently with them. I myself believe the Rohirric and Gondorians are best suited to stay where they are but I can understand, having broken that ideal myself. They left their homes, and that was their choice, not mine. What compelled them to do so I do not know; perhaps the War destroyed their home and life and they had no other choice." An amused smile flickered over his face. "Perhaps they are only Easterlings in disguise." He did seem immensely pleased at this idea yet with his romantic mind he would. "Yet you have told me your father merely took a fancy into his head to leave. If you will excuse me for speaking thus of your father, Miss Argeleafa, he had no right to and he should have. You were content in your home, and you did not want to leave it. Do not deny it, your face says as much! I am going to speak with your father, Miss Argeleafa, and if he will not go back here and now I will take you with our company and bring you back as soon as my quest is done. That is, if you desire to go."

Surprisingly Argeleafa did not make the protest Liornung had expected, that being that she did not know them. Her protest was quite different. "But sir, how is your life in this quest you speak of different than the life of the wayfarers?"

"It is immensely different," said Liornung intensely. "Ædegard and I travel out of a sense of duty, not because we wished to leave our homes and families. While we are forced to be on the road we have not set aside the custom and manner of our people, of your people. The War changed the lives of so many. I am different than those in this group... I travel about in my work to recall the days of yore, to bring back the traditions where men of Rohan fade away from it because the War ravaged their lands, not because I have turned away from those traditions. Those Rohirric here have abandoned their traditions and taken up with the Easterlings to lead a life they should not lead, and you especially. I do not say when I saw Rohirric people in your group of wayfarers I frowned with displeasure, but upon reflecting I realize I would rather see them sitting in their Rohirric homes, singing their Rohirric songs, and riding their Rohirric horses. I would not see them fade away from their culture and traditions."

Argeleafa spoke immediately when he paused. "Sir, you speak strong words yet true words. I have always loved the Rohirric way of life and I thought my heart would break when my father left it. The Easterlings are not wicked, the Gondorians are not wicked, but I cannot understand their ways of life and I cannot love it. I can live with them but I cannot live the life they live, and I am expected to. I will speak with my father, and if he will not return home I will go with you. That is, if Master Ædegard will allow. He thinks on me in not a favorable light, I think, but perhaps you can persuade him that I am not one of those Rohirric who did not care if they left their traditions or not."

"Fine!" Liornung said. "I cannot explain why I have taken such a liking to you, but you rather remind me of a niece I have and that is probably the reason. Yet I fancy you are older than she is... What is your age?"

"Four and twenty years, sir."

"You are no little girl!" he said. "In truth I thought thus when I saw your bewildered manner, but it proves my point. You do not love this life and you were not made for it. It is not a bad way of life for those like me who are caught up in enchantment by the road. Yet you... not you, Miss Argeleafa, not you." A little smile flickered across his face. "And no matter what good Ædegard says, I deem Miss Bellyn, or should I say Bella at her request, would enjoy the company of another woman. You will find her one who is not lacking in tradition, though she is of Gondor. Speak to your father, I will speak to Ædegard. If your father refuses to return, obtain a horse and ride north until you find us. We will be only a short distance away, less than a mile I think. If your father agrees to reutrn to his home, I bid you goodbye, Miss Argeleafa."

During their speech they had filled the pail with water and returned to the camp of wayfarers. Liornung bowed slightly to the girl, gave her the water pail, mounted his horse and began trotting briskly northward. If all honest truth must be told he was more than a little frightened of telling Ædegard that the young girl might be joining them, especially as he seemed to look upon the Rohirric wayfarers in a disfavorable light. He did not feel anymore at ease when, upon catching up to his company, Ædegard turned to him, a friendly look upon his face. Plainly he bore no ill will against Liornung for previous words the fiddler had spoken to him. 'Twould be hard to shatter such a friendly mood, but for the girl's sake and Rohan's sake it must be done.

"Good Ædegard, I bring you tidings, and whether they are good or ill I cannot say," he said. "I have sent Miss Argeleafa to speak with her father and try to convince him to return to his home. As I have told you, she was not made and brought up to be a wayfarer. If her father will not bring her home - " and here he stiffened and gripped the reins tightly, as if expecting a wild storm to blow him to the ends of Middle-Earth " - she will be coming with us."

[littlemanpoet]

"If her father will not bring her home - she will be coming with us."

Liornung seemed ready to defend his words, which struck Ædegard as odd, for he had not seen the fiddler so determined about anything but to sing.

"If you would know my mind, friend Liornung, I think you did well to convince the girl that she and her father should not live with these folk. Some say, though, that the father ought to have the say over what the daughter does. I do not, or Théoden's Bane would never have been slain by his daughter Eowyn."

Ædegard raised a brow as Liornung took on a befuddled expression.

"What is the matter, friend?"

"I did not expect such a seasoned answer! You have given me a surprsie, Ædegard, which is just as well, for I have always welcomed them."

Ædegard smiled. "I think that Amroth is not far ahead. I wonder, though, that he does not seem to understand, if Amroth he be, that he wears the flesh of a Gondorian blacksmith. Think you that we ought to change his mind so that he knows his limits?"