Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[Orual]

Ravion sighed when Aeron turned down the powder, and wondered briefly how old the boy was. He remembered turning down help for pride, but he had recovered from that particular affliction when he suffered a particularly nasty bruise from the blunt side of a spear, along with some broken ribs. He was offered medical help, and accepted it eagerly. There was some teasing, but the bruise was gone, and he hadn't suffered any permanent damage.

Ravion waited for an answer, but Aeron was too busy posturing and looking brave. "You did not answer my question, Aeron," he said.

Aeron seemed reluctant to answer. "She is afraid of blood," he said. "And I do not know why."

"There are numerous reasons why a person might be frightened of blood," Ravion said. "A serious accident as a child. Perhaps she was injured, or one of your parents was? If she associates blood with the pain of a loved one--"

"She is just scared of it, all right? I said that I do not know why. What more do you want?"

"I want to find a solution to this. Gwyllion will injure herself if she keeps doing this. She will start raging on someone other than you, and they will defend themselves." Aeron stared at Ravion, obviously getting ready to defend his sister. "Not me. Try not to be an idiot. But what about Mellondu?" Ravion lowered his voice, but he was fairly sure that Mellonin had not heard. "You recall that we are chasing a moonstruck blacksmith. I have not met him. I do not know if he is violent. If he is, and Gwyllion continues acting this irrationally, he might post a threat to her. You must do something about it, or allow me to."

[Orual]

The wind brought with it strange scents, and Erundil's travels brought strange tidings.

The man across the table had a red face and an overly free tongue from drinking too much. "They say the blacksmith-elf lord is nearing the Limlight. Maybe he's headed back to his throne!" The man's friends guffawed appreciatively, and the man raised his glass and took a deep swig.

The Ranger stared evenly at him, his bright blue eyes showing nothing. The man coughed self-consciously. "Look, the lad is crazy. There's nothing more to be said of it."

The Ranger shrugged. "I think that you are likely wrong," he said, standing up and passing a few coins to the innkeeper. "There is almost always something more to be said."

The Limlight lay to his north. What interested him more lay right before him. A campsite, and around it lay several people. Two men, from what he could see, a girl, and two boys.

Erundil watched them for a moment, his eyes taking in every detail. They had not heard his approach. That was good, it was as he planned it. He did not know if the boy was truly insane--he did not know if he was dangerous--but there was no wisdom in testing fate. He had his bearings. He knew the land now. He knew his opponents, if it came to a fight.

He stepped on the grass, and let them know of his presence.

[alaklondewen]

Ugrashk ran quickly in the dark. He hated going on these “missions”. Of course he wanted the flesh to fill his growling stomach, knowing all too well the harshness of the winters in the mountains, but he hated leaving the confines of the mines. The fresh air made his head light and the fragrance of the land between the mountains and the forest turned his stomach. Then there was that wicked forest. He hated the nasty elves and that golden forest more than he hated the fresh air and grass. If they were lucky they would get to have some real fun reeking havoc in there tonight. Nashka would never let them go too far in because he always wanted to stick to the orders, but they might get to play some nonetheless.

Years ago strange stories came about Orcs following a band (this was around the time of the fall of the great demon) that entered that wretched place and were never seen again. There had always been rumors of the dangerous Lady that haunted the forest, but after the War, she left and the place has never been the same. The forest may not have been as dangerous, but it was still disgusting to Ugrashk. He cringed at the thought of those nasty elves and their songs.

After moving for a few hours, the forest finally loomed ahead in the darkness. Nashka barked orders at the group to form their line, and Ugrashk fell in. The great shadow of the trees grew and became an immense black mass in the grey shadows of the moonless night. Ugrashk growled under his breath as he readied himself. Moments after, he heard what sounded like a whistle, coming from where…he could not tell. He turned his head to see if it one of the Orcs behind him, if so he would shut them up in a hurry. As he turned back to the front, several things happened so quickly that he was unsure of what was taking place. First, the soldier directly in front of him collapsed, whether he had tripped or something else, Ugrashk did not know, but he caught his foot on the underside of the fallen and lunged forward. He heard several other whistles before he realized they were under attack. Panicking at seeing those falling all around him, he pulled out his bow and let a clumsy arrow fly not knowing where the assailants were located.

Spinning on his heels, Ugrashk was going to run back to the mountains and the mines. He would tell the Great Kugruk, and a whole army would be sent to destroy the forest. The fleeing Orc tripped over another of his comrades who grabbed his foot asking for help. Ugrashk shook his foot and kicked the fallen Orc until he let go of his limb. Before he could completely twist himself, he was hit so hard that his body was thrown backward. Looking down, he could see the silver shaft, glistening even in the darkness, protruding from his chest. Ugrashk dropped to his knees trying to pull the arrow from his body, but was unsuccessful as his strength became increasingly diminished. He was tired and his body finally collapsed entirely and never moved again.

~*~*~

“Let us go and dispose of the remains,” Erebemlin called to the other three. He was relieved the task was over and knew much work needed to be done to cleanse the area.

The foursome worked until the morning ensure all of their enemies were deceased, then checking the bodies for any weapons or trinkets that may have been taken from other races. Once these preliminary tasks were handled, Celegtâl and Taitheneb dug a small pit a significant distance south of the forest, while Erebemlin and Caranduin (being of stouter build than the other two) carried the bodies one by one and laid them in the center. Caranduin then kindled a great fire that’s thick black smoke rose and tainted the new morning's sky.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin joined Raefindan, and together they looked away northwestward. Gond tossed his head as Jorje approached him, and hesitantly snuffled noses; Gond snorted, spraying Jorje with a fine mist, and Jorje trotted off in disgust to roll in the grass.

"They don't think much of each other, " murmured Mellonin.

"Gond and Jorje? Or Ravion and Aeron?"

Mellonin stifled her laughter, and her eyes sparkled. "Oh Raefindan, I am glad that you can laugh at it all. I need to laugh. Everything has been so..." she spread her hands and shook her head.

Raefindan nodded. "A thief and a moonstruck girl. Sometimes I wonder what Ravion was thinking."

"It was as much my doing as Ravion's; I wanted his sister to come. I thought..."

"You thought Aeron's sister would bring out the best in him."

She nodded.

"She may yet, " Raefindan soothed her. "And indeed, perhaps she is now. Who knows how much wilder he would have been?"

"He'd be tame enough in prison where he belongs, " Mellonin said.

"Do you really think so?"

Mellonin studied Red in surprise. Clearly he did not agree, and she dropped her gaze again.

[mark12_30]

There was darkness issuing from the dark of Moria; darkness begat darkness, darkness birthed darkness. No wonder his beloved had fled from Moria. The light was so far away... so far. The hope... was there any? He clawed for it, reached for it, begged for it. Hope must be there... out there. He reached, stretching, straining, his hands trembling. A moan escaped him.

The darkness rumbled closer. Was it not dark all around him, all through him? How could the darkness come closer than it already was? Panic rose in him, and he fought with it; he was no coward. He belonged to the Light and the Light belonged to him, and he would find it again. He clawed, looking for hope, for light.

Slavering, hairy jowls gurgled nearby. Moria. She had been wise to flee it so long ago. He shuddered; was he trapped in Moria? Dark speech crawled like snakes into his ears and he clawed at his ears trying to get the snakes out of his head. He was sinking, and he was surrounded by orcs. Or were they orcs? Dead men... cursed, forsaken, all dead, all foul, all rotten, swallowing him in their own despair. The curse of Moria... Were there men in Moria? No, not that the tales ever told... Where was he? Orcs and corpses and darkness seeped into his very being and he could hear them laughing down inside his body. He clawed at his stomach.

Liornung and wild Mellon sat near Amroth. Liornung had brought water to wash the fevered young man's brow, and Mellon had siezed it and insisted on caring for Amroth himself. But he did allow Liornung to sit next to him.

Arrows piercing, piercing, burning. The dark grows darker. The struggles cease, and there is only pain and dark... til the fire comes.

Liornung shook Ædegard awake. "Ædegard. Look to the north. See you the stars are darkened?"

Ædegard rubbed his face and they stared into the north together. "Is it smoke? Why would there be a fire..."

"We will know soon. Dawn is near."

"Amroth dreams still."

At that moment, Mellon's body twitched, his head snapped up, looking southward. There was a shadow stepping just inside the light of the fire. With a snarl, Mellon rose, and stood astride his sleeping friend.

[Imladris]

Aeron stared at the dusty ground and kicked a pebble away. What Ravion said was true. If Gwyllion threw herself into a rage in the presence of touchy people, she could get hurt.

A sudden dawning broke over him: she could hurt other people. He touched his belly, and lifted up his shirt to see what damage she had done. Black and blue, purple speckled bruises were begining to spread on his skin. It reminded him of the way a red stain grew...

He let the shirt drop and sighed. "She is not moonstruck," he murmured. "She is not crazy -- she knows who she is. She is just....afraid of blood and who knows what else. Her mother died when she was born," he continued in a furious whisper. "A midwife had to cut her out...and father never really forgave her for killing his beloved wife. He left some time ago. No one really knows where he went. Not that I care," he added.

Ravion was frowning, and asked, "Is she your half sister then?"

Aeron, puzzled, answered, "No, why do you think that?" And then he realized his mistake. Blast...drat...it! he fumed. If their mother had died in Gwyllion's birth then how could she be his older sister? Words...they trapped you. They delighted in trapping you in the midst of lies.

He raised his eyes and muttered, "She is fifteen. Two years younger than I."

[Orual]

Aeron's proclamation that Gwyllion was the younger of the two did not shock Ravion. It wasn't that he knew beforehand--Gwyllion's odd, childish behavior, plus the fact that it hadn't occurred to Ravion that Aeron might lie about that hadn't led to much in the way of investigation. However, it didn't surprised the Ranger that the boy thief would lie about inconsequential things. It didn't surprise him, but it did worry him.

He thumbed his cut cheek. "I do not understand why you lied to me, Aeron," he said quietly. He found that speaking quietly and calmly was more disconcerting than shouting and raging. It was a finding that he rarely put into effect--but he did when he really needed it. "It was not that important. I understand your needing to care for your sister. If she needs your protection, she deserves it. Yours, and, if need be, mine."

"She--" began Aeron, but Ravion cut him off.

"Lying about trivial things will not aid us as we go on. I may ask you things that sound, to you, inconsequential. 'Is the grass by that tree brown?' 'Are there upturned rocks near that bush?' 'Are the weeds near that river bed flattened?' There may come a time when everything we do depends on the answers to questions like those. I can see things in brown grass and flat weeds that you cannot. I need to know my territory down to the smallest details. If you are going to get into the habit of lying to me, then I might as well tie you across Gond's saddle and haul you around like luggage, because not only will you and your sister be useless, you will be dead weight. You will actively hinder our mission. And that is not fair to Mellonin."

He stood up and looked around, avoiding Aeron's eyes. "Do not think that I am pitiless. I am sorry for your sister's plight. I am sorry that she hurt you. I am sorry that you felt that you had to lie to me, to--protect yourself? Protect your sister? I am not sure. But you should not feel compelled to lie. Ever. I know the art of the half-truth myself, I will admit, but this is not the time for lies, half-truths, omissions...anything but honesty. It will hurt you in the long run."

He glanced at Aeron. "And take the powder, Aeron. It will not make you any less of a man."