Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[littlemanpoet]

It looked like a day's hard ride from the Limlight to the distant forest, which Ædegard could see because its trees were so tall. He never did see Amroth and Mellon ahead of him the whole time, but their horses' hoof prints were unmistakable.

It was good to be alone for a change. It was the first time since Liornung and Bellyn had come upon him out of Edoras. To have space on every side, free of word or look or glances that meant the others trusted him to act in certain ways, will he or nill he. His horizon was free of other folk, of other faces, whether grinning like Liornung's usually was, or thoughtful as Bellyn, or fair Argeleafa of the Rohirrim. Or Liornung's songs.

He missed the songs.

He liked being with them. At any rate, Amroth's tracks looked to stay clear for any eyes.

He slowed and waited. His horse did not mind, as he gave him his head and he proceeded to graze.

He did not have to wait long. He waved when he saw them coming. Four of them. He had forgotten about the Ranger, Erundil. His brow furrowed, for he did not trust the man, a stranger. Then again, the three allowed him to ride with them. Maybe he would prove as trustworthy as Liornung and Bellyn. He waved.

"Ædegard!" Liornung cried. "Well met again! I am glad that you have decided to wait for us! Have you any sign of Amroth?"

"None save his trail."

They exchanged what little news they had not yet given between each other, and Ædegard shook hands with Erundil. Then the five pushed on, and Ædegard left Liornung and Bellyn to read the trail. He was happy to ride beside Aregeleafa and Erundil. There was not much talk passing between them, but that did not displease Ædegard.

As the forest grew before them, clear voices called to them.

"Halt! Come no nearer. This realm may not be traveled without leave. Name yourselves!"

[littlemanpoet]

A number of things happened at once. Raefindan dove into the water to rescue the merchant. Mellonin came to Aeron to see how he fared. Gwyllion stared at the merchant, her face white. The merchant's man drew his sword and crossed over to Gwyllion, lifted her to her feet, and held his sword at her neck.

"You and yours have raised a hand against my master. Do so again and this one pays."

Ravion's eyes went hard and his body tensed, his sword aimed at the man at arms. Aeron and Mellonin both turned as if yanked around by a rope, and stared at the man and Gwyllion, who had begun to whimper.

Raefindan pulled the merchant to shore. He was glad the man was skinny. Once he was sure the man was safe on land, stretched on the beach and coughing like a seal barking, he came forward, both hands raised, giving a quick reassuring nod to Ravion as he turned to face the man at arms. He would have to think about seals barking, what they were and where he remembered them from, later, when he had a chance.

"I have helped your master. We do not mean ill to you nor your master. Release the girl."

The man at arms looked questioningly to the merchant.

Raefindan spoke to the merchant. "Sir, please tell your man we mean you no harm. You have had my aid."

Slowly, the merchant considered, and at last, nodded. "Let the girl go. But keep that sword leveled on the boy!"

"Thank you," Raefindan said. He put a hand up to Ravion, who had raised his sword higher at the threat to Aeron.

"Sir, there is something that we would like to explain - ah - um - clear up about Aeron - but only when these swords drop."

The merchant looked from Ravion to Raefindan, glanced at Aeron, then gave an eyebrow raised look at his man at arms who shrugged noncommitally.

"Make him put his sword away first," said the merchant, pointing to Ravion.

"I cannot make him do anything, for he is our leader, but I am sure that he will agree to lower his sword if your man will do the same. Sir?" The merchant nodded. "My thanks. Ravion?"

As they watched, both swords lowered slowly, as if they were attached by elastic somehow, until their points rested near the ground.

"As I was saying, sir, we are this boy's jailers. We are giving him his punishment."

The merchant's brow rose again. "How?"

"Ah, sir, that is a good question. The answer best comes from Ravion, for it was he who arranged it. But before we speak more, might we not procure - ah - um - get - some towels or cloth to dry ourselves, and then perhaps something hot to drink for my good man here and his trusty footman?"

[Orual]

The silence was resounding, and Raefindan's gentlemanly offer fell on deaf ears. Ravion glared at the merchant, who glared back twice as venemously.

"You have taken the thief on as punishment, have you, Ranger?" the merchant jeered, spitting out Ravion's title like poison. "Tell me, how so? Protected by a Ranger, given food, the possibility of adventure...oh, yes, sounds to me like every boy's worst nightmare."

"Believe me when I say that there were things he would more enjoy doing," Ravion said, his voice dry. "Dressing up as a steak and being thrown to Wargs, for starters. The boy has been given no luxuries. He is here as my aide, and he will make himself useful or he will be cast off. I have no room in this company for idlers."

"But you have room for criminals?" the merchant demanded.

"We all have something to atone for," Ravion replied coldly and pointedly. He glanced at Aeron, who was still holding his injured arm. He hoped passionately that the merchant had not dislocated it. That would take too long to heal. He looked over to Raefindan. "More discussion would fall ill on thirsty dispositions. Even more ill than it already has. Perhaps my friend Raefindan is correct--perhaps a drink would not be amiss."

[Orual]

The wayfarer girl smiled at him, a curious smile, open and trusting. No, perhaps trusting was the wrong word. Inviting.

Erundil took a moment. He was not a man prone to smiles. It had been something of a oddity to his brother Rangers, who would laugh and joke around him to lighten the tension during the War. He never joined in their jests. Now, he wondered at this girl smiling while her companions seemed to be so focused and intent in their chase.

He felt a small smile slip onto his face, and coughed, and changed the subject. Perhaps she could tell him something of the blacksmith. "This...companion of yours. Your friends seem worried. Is he a danger to himself?"

The girl frowned a bit. "They say that he is not himself," she said, before they both heard a voice call:

"Halt! Come no nearer. This realm may not be traveled without leave. Name yourselves!"

Erundil kept silent, but groaned inside. Surely he had not let these travelers drag him into danger! Lothlorien? What had he gotten himself into?

[mark12_30]

Mellonin sheathed her dagger, fighting with self-disgust, her neck and cheeks crimson. Not only had she been of no use, but she had clearly failed to fool either of these men as to her identity; they both dismissed her as a woman. What good was she?

Nearby, the cold and dripping Gwyllion had begun to whimper. Mellonin turned on her, but her eyes were fixed on Ravion, and at a sign from him, she bit her lip and the whimpering turned into sniffles. The moment gave Mellonin hope. Somehow in only two days, Ravion had begun to change the girl. Mellonin watched as silent tears rolled down Gwillion's quivering cheeks, but her eyes were fixed on Ravion and she did not make another noise.

The girl may be moonstruck, but she is no fool.

The two strangers waited while Ravion glared at them. Raefindan fetched the two cooking pots, refilled them in the river, and set them on the fire. Mellonin, rooted to the ground, felt her blush deepen. She had expected the merchant to die spitted on one of Raefindan's arrows, and the other to die at Ravion's sword. Yet no blood had been shed. Raefindan was shivering, wet to the ribs, and hospitable.

What a puzzling man.

She roused herself, and went forward to unpack more tea, beckoning Gwillion toward the fire as she did so. December! What a time to go for a swim, she thought. Gwillion stood by the fire, but soon she was shivering, as was Raefindan.

All but Ravion started as the brush moved on the hill. Jorje trotted toward them with a dead rabbit dangling from his mouth.

"Some watchdog you were, " chided Raefindan through chattering teeth, and Mellonin had to smile. Jorje eyed the strangers with suspicion, withdrew to a safe distance, and ate the rabbit.

Soon the tea was hot, and Raefindan brought a steaming cup to each of the strangers.

Then he turned to the merchant. "Let the lad sit by the fire, " said Raefindan.

"You jest," spat the merchant.

Ravion's eyes narrowed. "He will do as I bid. As for you: sicken one of my company at your own peril." Stepping forward, Ravion set the point of his blade within the circle of the neglected necklace, caught it up glittering, and slipped it back into his pocket. He was now face to face with the merchant.

"What--" said the merchant.

"This I will have as weregild for my servant til he is returned to me, " replied Ravion. "Take him to the fire."

"How dare you!" The merchant gave Aeron's arm another yank. Mellonin stood, indignant, and Raefindan groaned inwardly. The man-at-arms raised his blade again, but Ravion's blade was now at the merchant's throat. Everyone froze.

[Imladris]

Shivering, his arm throbbing, Aeron glanced at Ravion with grateful eyes. The ranger was protecting him for some unaccountable reason, and Aeron could not help but wonder why. A feeble grin struggled to his face, but quickly disappeared when he sneezed. He felt miserable -- drat that blasted merchant who had found him.

Tea...it was not the most pleasing drink, but that did not matter so long as it was warm. He listened dully to the ranger and the merchant arguing about whether he should sit by the fire. Aeron thought that there should be no question about the matter. It was common descency to let someone sit by a fire and then people wondered why he stole from the rich merchants. Aeron grimaced and squealed again when the merchant jerked his arm again. The hoar headed one was too strong for his own good. About to elbow him back, Aeron saw the sword at the man's throat and froze. The ranger threatening the merchant's life for a bit of fire to warm a thief's cold bones? That was not quite ranger like, Aeron thought. Rangers were supposed to uphold the law...no protect known criminals. It was nice, though, that this ranger considerred it his duty to do otherwise...it was much better being his servant rather than rotting in a jail cell.

************
The merchant scoffed at the blade, and said, "Do you wish to frighten me into submission? Do you think that I will grovel before your blade and consent to let the boy warm himself?" He cocked an eyebrow at the ranger and said, "I have fought in many battles, jeered at the leering faces of orcs, stood unflinchingly in the face of the Dark Lord's Armies. I do not fear your blade."

[Orual]

Almost before Ravion himself knew what was happening, he had his sword pointed at the merchant's throat. The merchant scowled at the weapon and said mockingly, "Do you wish to frighten me into submission? Do you think that I will grovel before your blade and consent to let the boy warm himself? I have fought in many battles, jeered at the leering faces of orcs, stood unflinchingly in the face of the Dark Lord's Armies. I do not fear your blade."

Ravion stood silent, his blade unmoving, as he bore into the merchant's eyes. "These things I have done as well," he said quietly. He hoped that he was imagining the quaver in his voice. The merchant had poured salt into his one open wound as deftly as he could have had he known it was there. So the merchant was a soldier. No matter, Ravion told himself, and it made things all the worse: a man who had seen the product of Sauron's destructiveness and cruelty should know better than to deliberately sicken a young boy.

The Ranger and the merchant glared at each other, neither moving, neither backing down, for a long moment. Ravion tensed his arm suddenly as though to strike, and the merchant let go of Aeron's arm reflexively. The boy took advantage of the opportunity, as Ravion had hoped he would, and moved quickly out of the merchant's grip. "You ought to go sit by the fire, Aeron. You might catch a cold," Ravion said in something that resembled a pleasant tone, though he kept his eyes squarely on the merchant, who was now seething with anger.

"What would your fellow Rangers think?" the merchant asked, his voice dripping with acid. Ravion stiffened, but said nothing.

"What would your fellow Rangers think?

"What would your father think?"

"He would--" Ravion began, then corrected himself. "They would think that I was keeping my word and protecting..." He broke off and stormed over to Gond, digging in the saddlebags.

"What are you doing?" the merchant demanded. Ravion did not respond, but brought out some dried herbs and crushed them between his hands. He then strode over to Aeron and crouched by the boy.

"Put this in your tea," he ordered. Aeron looked up, puzzled, and Ravion shoved the herbs at him. "Do as I say. I will not have you falling ill. We cannot waste that much time." Aeron took the herbs, and Ravion checked his shoulder and arm. His forearm was bruised, but his shoulder was fine...it probably still ached, but it was not broken or dislocated. He nodded curtly and stood up.

"You are fortunate that you did not injure him," he snapped.