Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[alaklondewen]

Erebemlin was weary…his heart, his mind. The return of the blacksmith was almost too much. The young man lay in the grass near his feet, and the elf watched him closely, watching and hoping for some sign of his king.

"Mellon! You are back! Where have you been!"

Erebemlin raised his eyebrow as the young Ædegard fell to his knees before the blacksmith. The young man had not fallen before the king in such respect. Why would he do so for this man that covered Amroth’s mind?

"Give him room, Ædegard," Erebemlin spoke firmly. "He is feverish and needs to rest."

Ædegard rose and stepped back, but instead of taking his leave as Erebemlin wished, the man took hold of the young Rohirric woman and began to introduce her. The elf pushed himself up quickly from the ground and stepped between the couple and the blacksmith. Erebemlin towered over the man as he narrow his eyes and flared his nostrils. The man, Mellon, began to speak, but the elf interrupted glaring at Ædegard. “He needs rest. There will be time for such things later.” Erebemlin growled, “Go now, both of you, and let him sleep.”

[littlemanpoet]

Mellon smiled and was about to answer him, but Erebemlin stood and interrupted him.

“He needs rest. There will be time for such things later,” the elf growled. “Go now, both of you, and let him sleep.”

"You are right, Erebemlin, but this will only take a moment." Ædegard looked to Leafa. "Come, Leafa, come closer. This is Mellon." Leafa's eyes darted uncertainly between him and the elf.

"Youngling, do not cross me!"

Ædegard faced the elf, whose eyes smoldered now. But Ædegard was not one to back down from a bully. He let go of Leafa's hand and came close to the elf, looking up into the tall one's eyes fiercely.

"Mellon is back, elf. He is no longer your Amroth, but Mellon, and a human. You have no rights to speak for him."

"Fool!" Erebemlin was furious now. The other elf, the one called Taitheneb, stood up and came toward Ædegard.

"Two against one, then, is it?" Ædegard said.

"Would you be in the middle of all the fights you can in one day, youngling? Do not bait me, you young Rohirric fool."

"Ædegard," Taitheneb said, raising a hand in a gesture of calming, "Erebemlin fears for Amroth, as do I. He is still with your Mellon. We must care for them both."

"That may be," Ædegard said, "but I will not be bullied by elf, Easterling, or any man."

"None here bullies you," Taitheneb said while Erebemlin glowered in silence, still standing between Ædegard and the feverish Mellon, "but the two of you at a stalemate mere feet from Mellon can do neither him nor Amroth any good."

Ædegard raised his hands in a sign of truce. "I do not wish to hurt anyone here. I will wait until Mellon is rested. But you-!" he pointed at Erebemlin "must needs gainsay your words to me!"

Erebemlin stared into Ædegard's eyes. "I name fool he who speaks and acts as one. Do wisely and I will name you wise."

"I name you full of pride, then, oh great elf." Ædegard turned on his heel and walked past Taitheneb and Leafa, to his own horse. He groomed his mount in silence, and told himself that he would speak to no-one for the rest of the day. Not even Leafa. Well, except maybe Leafa.

[mark12_30]

Mellondu waited til the quarrel was over; he hated strife of any kind. The elves turned their backs, Erebemlin angry, Taitheneb cautious, and stalked to their own horses. Mellondu thought a moment, and then clicked his tongue; Echo raised his head.

"Come here, Echo, " Mellondu murmured, but the horse continued to chew his mouthful of grass. No one took any notice of him, or so he thought. He clicked his tongue again.

He was surprised to see Nethwador walk toward Echo, and grasp the horse's forelock. Two tall chestnut horses, with Nethwador between them, approached Mellondu. He waited.

Nethwador offered Mellondu a hand, and Mellondu slowly stood, and leaned on Echo. Nethwador twisted a thick grass-wisp, and began to groom Echo; Mellondu reached for it, and Nethwador gave him the wisp, and quickly twisted a new one for himself.

"Thanks, " Mellondu said in the common tongue.

Nethwador studied Mellondu uneasily, and then said "Nethwador mellon Amroth."

With a sparkling eye, Mellondu nodded, and then tapping his own chest, he replied, "Mellondu mellon Nethwador." With a good-natured chuckle, he laid a hand on Nethwador's shoulder. Nethwador relaxed.

Mellondu grew grave for a moment, and then chuckled again. "You need a song," he said to the puzzled lad. "The Tale of Wild Nethwador and the Lady Bellyn. Then we would all be helping you, too. One must have a song, if one will go on a quest to win a lady's heart." He chuckled again, and then shivered. "Perhaps Liornung will write you one." He leaned on Echo's neck, and Nethwador hurriedly finished grooming the big chestnut, and then saddled him. Mellondu looked wearily up at the big horse, and Nethwador stood back, expecting the elvish leap; Mellondu dropped his eyes. "Not today." He studied the stirrup, gathering his willpower, put his foot in the stirrup and hauled himself up onto Echo's back.

Echo staggered, eyes bulging as Mellondu struggled to right himself in the saddle. Nethwador shook his head, and steadied Echo, speaking to him in his strange tongue; Echo snorted, and turned a white-rimmed eye to look at Mellondu.

Mellondu reached down and laid a hand on Nethwador's shoulder. "Thanks, mellon."

Nethwador looked up at Mellondu, startled. "Mellon. Nethwador mellon Mellondu."

The sparkle returned to Mellondu's eyes. "Mellon mellon Mellon."

Nethwador laughed aloud and swung aboard Celegoer Beorneth. The two small, slender darkhaired men on their lanky chestnut horses rode forward to the head of the column. Neither noticed the anger in the eyes of the tallest of the elves.

[Nurumaiel]

Argeleafa gazed about her in despair and struggled with the temptation to sit down and burst into tears again. She looked towards Ædegard, but his face was dark and stormy. She looked for Liornung, but she could not see him through the tears that were rising fast in her eyes. She would not weep, whatever the inclination. The last time ill things had come of it. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers at them, and took many deep breaths, until she felt that, while still shaking and sorrowful, she would not weep.

Oh, but the world was an odd place! She had been so happy, engaged to Ædegard, and now everything was crumbling to pieces about her. Oh, would it happen that Ædegard would not love her anymore, and would not want her to be his wife? It was a bitter thing to reflect upon. Things such as it were never supposed to happen, save in the songs Liornung sang each night by the fire. Now he could compose a new song, and name it, 'The Sorrowful Tale of Ædegard and Argeleafa.' It was cruel, too cruel.

She sat down upon the ground and immersed herself in her feelings of grief and bitterness. Ædegard did not look at her, but continued to groom his steed, his eyes smouldering. Well then! Neither would she look at him, nor would she speak to him. It was a mad idea that sprang to her head, and it was unlike her, the quiet gentle little girl, but it came to her nevertheless, and she resolved to ignore Ædegard for as long as it was possible.

[littlemanpoet]

Ædegard rode in silence, at the back of the party. Alone. Ahead of him rode Liornung with Bellyn to his right and Leafa to his left. Leafa had not looked back at him once. Ahead of them rode the two elves side by side, and leading the party, Mellon and the Easterling, already fast friends. It left a very sour taste in Ædegard's mouth. Did Ædegard and Mellon's friendship mean nothing? No, it was the elves who kept him away from his friend but let the Easterling boy joke with him.

Do not bait me, you young Rohirric fool. The memory of the leader Elf's words were fresh in his mind, and irked him no less than at first. All of them, even Leafa, had sided against him. He was disgusted. "I might as well break the engagement and go straight home. They will not miss me. They would most likely be pleased." Even Leafa.

You were the first to choose ill. That was what Leafa believed. She had said so herself, and she always spoke the truth as well as she saw it. He remembered the expression on her face as she said it. Sorrow, as if it was a great wrong he had done, and she was sorrowful that he had done it. Anger smouldered in him. Did she not see? All he had done was right, according to the ways of the Rohirrim! She was a Rohirrim! She should know these things! But she had been forced to live among the Easterling wanderers, and had learned to suffer them their ways. He still held out hope that he could teach her the ways of the Rohirrim. They were hard ways, and he hoped that once she learned those ways better, they would not lessen her pity for those who suffered. You were the first to choose ill.

Oh.

She had pity on the Easterling boy. As did the rest of them. The boy did become friendly to those who were kind to him. Could it be that he was wrong about the Easterling boy? Could it be that the ways of the Rohirrim were not right? Nonsense! The fathers of his fathers had lived by these ways, and they were good ways. That the others did not see this was sad, but he could live with it.

Youngling. Insufferable Elf. As for as Ædegard cared, the sea could take them all. More living space for his folk once the Elves left. He knew he was being unkind, but they were not his kind. He had heard it said that the ages of the Elves were past, that the new age was that of Men. Let them pass, let them pass; pass away into the west where their Elven home awaited them.

I am more disappointed in you... Leafa's face came back with sudden clarity; her words were hammer strokes. So much power in one so small and timid. You were the first to choose ill. Ædegard's eyes became wet, for a lump had formed in his throat. He wished the day had gone other than it had. Round and round the words of the others, and his own, spun in his mind all day long, burning themselves into his memory. He wished to sleep and tried to will the sun down to its setting.

On they rode, ever south.

[littlemanpoet]

"Erundil," Raefindan said to the other ranger, who was just sitting up, "how do you fare?"

"Well enough." He pulled himself to his feet. "So the elf has returned one of them to us."

"Aye," Raefindan said. "I do not think he is far off."

"If that is so," Ravion said, "then Mellonin must not be far off either."

"You think he keeps her with him, then?" Raefindan asked, shading his eyes, looking off into the distance of the swamp. He did not expect to see the elf, but was sure he was there.

"He would need to, or he could not stay with us and have returned Gwyllion."

"I do not know the way of elves," said Erundil, "but could he not track us? I would not be surprised if he could move more quickly than we."

"His arrows have been too ready at hand," answered Raefindan, "is that not so Aeron?"

The boy was distracted, watching Gwyllion's sleeping face, which did not change for all his attentions. He looked up. "Aye! I could draw one this way now, I wager." He stood and faced the general direction of the swamp, then put his hands to his mouth and called, "Let us hunt the elf and find the other one!"

"Aeron!" Raefindan warned. "It is not wise to-"

"Ow!" Aeron yelled, hopping on one foot. He landed with a watery squash just off the path, an arrow buried in his right foot. He held his foot in both hands and said through gritted teeth, "I will kill that elf!"

Suddenly Ravion ran toward Aeron with one of the bags from Gond's side in hand. Aeron ducked and squinted as if expecting to be tackled, but Ravion hit the ground just before him, facing the swamp. There was a thud, for an arrow had pierced the bag.

"Get him to the other side of Gond!" Ravion yelled. Raefindan and Erundil picked Aeron up between them and carried him out of the line of fire.

"If I were you, Aeron," said Raefindan, "I would not be too quick to speak of killing the elf."

"I didn't say it loud!"

"Elves have ears like conies."

"They are that long and stick up?" Aeron grinned through his discomfort.

Raefindan grinned. "Some think so. But it is their hearing I spoke of."

"I know that! Keep an eye for Gwyllion!"

"I have her," Ravion said.

"Let us have a look at that foot," Erundil said.

[alaklondewen]

Erebemlin rode in complete silence, keeping his eyes forward and his teeth clinched. He could feel Taitheneb’s eyes burrowing into him, but the elder elf kept his mind closed, not wanting to hear the always sensitive words of the younger. He was not proud of his behavior at the camp, but he sometimes felt as though he was the only one that truly cared for Lord Amroth. Now his king was beyond his aid. If only Erebemlin could communicate with the king and just know Amroth was safe…

Taitheneb was searching him again, looking over from atop his horse with his large, sympathetic silver eyes. Erebemlin purposefully turned his face away from the other elf and searched the river, letting his eyes roam from bank to bank.

Taitheneb noticed Erebemlin’s standoffishness and was hurt by it. He understood the elder’s concern about the king, but Taitheneb was worried about how the other elf was handling the pressure. He had never seen Erebemlin crumble under the demands of duty, yet he knew this was deeper. Erebemlin’s heart was breaking. The king, who he had seen as his hero and his father after his true father passed on, had suddenly reappeared into the warrior’s life, and now…he was gone almost as quickly as he came.

The younger elf understood this and just wished Erebemlin would let him comfort him in some way, but the elder was proud…too proud to show such sensitivities. Taitheneb tried to break the silence. “Will we keep to our current path, Silmaethor?”

Without facing him, Erebemlin replied, “Yes, Lord Amroth wished to search the river banks for the Lady, and we will keep to his orders.”

“And what if we find her?”

The simple question caught Erebemlin off guard. What would they do if they found Nimrodel beside the river? Something told him they would not, but would Amroth return if she was found? Erebemlin shook his head slowing. “I know not,” he said softly. “I know not.”