Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Despair entered Bellyn’s mind as they rode onward to some destination unknown to her. Things between each member of the company had fallen into disrepair, and most of the broken bonds seemed beyond mending to Bellyn. Her confusion came mostly because she had never had to deal with such problems in her life before she had left the tavern with Liornung that day. That day seemed so far behind them! The group had traveled so far together, only to have it torn apart. Relationships that were once just a little rocky had so quickly become sharp stones, ripe for throwing.

If Nethwador would not care for me so, these things would have never happened…

Bellyn shook her head as the thought entered her mind. She had not meant for it to sound so bitter or so foolish, even if she was only thinking it to herself. Bellyn knew it was silly to think such a thing, but for some reason she could not shake it from her mind. Truly, Bellyn was quite flattered by Nethwador’s affections. Am I not supposed to feel good? Am I not meant to feel wonderful that someone feels for me in such a way? Again her own thoughts bewildered her. Certainly I would not be so confused if I had never left home.

What about Amroth and his search?

Ashamed of her inability thus far to aid his actual search in any way, and upset that the people within the group could not cooperate, Bellyn sighed deeply in frustration. She looked about her surroundings, aching for a solution for the problems. Bellyn had never realized how much she cared for things to be right, and how much she would do for things to be set straight. Riding over closer Liornung, Bellyn decided to voice her thoughts before they did any more damage bouncing around her head.

“Liornung!” Bellyn murmured, catching the fiddler’s attention. “Liornung, my thoughts are dark. Do you think that things will soon be fixed within our own group? Do you think that Lord Amroth’s search will ever be complete?

[Nurumaiel]

'I cannot say, dear Bella,' said Liornung, shaking his head. 'Things will be mended, and for the better, but I cannot say if it will be in the way everyone expects, or, indeed in the way everyone desires. But things will be set aright, somehow.' He spoke casually, but when he glanced over at her and saw the expression on her face he immediately reached out to pat her hand. 'There now, lassie, don't be fretting!' he said. 'Trust what I say, and let's have a merry tune to cheer any sorrowful hearts. I have rarely attempted to play the fiddle upon horseback, but it has proven to be a somewhat difficult task, yet I am willing to try.' And he released the reins and fumbled about at his back where he had securely strapped his fiddle.

Argeleafa rode a ways apart from Ædegard, and behind him so he could not see her, but her eyes were fixed on his back and her thoughts were tortured. Pride had overtaken her meekness, but slowly, ever so slowly love was taking over her pride. She did not want to give in, and ride closer to him, though she ached to do so, for it would humble her, and she did not want to be humbled. Her chin went in the air, and her hands tightly clenched her reins, and she resolved she would not give in. And then there was a rush of music behind her, and a merry tune sent her heart thrilling up, and Liornung's fine voice broke through all her troubled thoughts.

'Hey now, step along
along the road so dreary
dark shadows lie before us now
but let us all be cheery!
For what is past is past indeed,
and what is lost fell from the lead,
if we have music and good feed,
why should we all be weary?

Hey now, step along,
lassie looking sadly,
the darkness on your face does show
that you've been treated badly,
but if a cheery smile did grace
your wholly fair and lovely face
there'd no time nor any place,
for naught but dancing gladly!

Hey now, step along,
a cast aside your sorrow!
Tears and groans and angry words
are naught but trouble borrowed.
So step and give a little dance
and light and lively sway and prance!
For recall, there's still a chance
of happiness tomorrow!'

And when the song ended, Argeleafa was riding alongside of Ædegard rather than behind him. Not near to him, not yet, but she was level to him now, and not hiding from his view. Liornung did not notice, but he smiled to see that Bella was cheerier.

[littlemanpoet]

Little by little as the day passed, Ædegard had moved from the back of the group to the middle, so that he rode ahead of Leafa, Bellyn, and Liornung, and behind the Easterline and the Elves. His thoughts still raged, circling around the many things that had been said. He was not sure how he had gotten ahead of the other three, for he was consumed by his thoughts. You were the first to choose ill. Those words of Leafa were the ones that stayed him longest of all.

Liornung started fiddling and singing. It was a relief, for until then the party had traveled in unremitting silence. He let the words wash over him; then his attention was caught by a line or two.

"Tears and groans and angry words
are naught but trouble borrowed."

Indeed. Ædegard did not want all the trouble. He felt cut off from his friends, and hated it.

Leafa was riding abreast of him, though not close. She did not look toward him, but held her head high, and her hands clung to her reins as if they did more than keep her in the saddle.

Ædegard wanted to speak to her, some word, something to break through the silence. I am sorry. Were those words true? Yes, but could he say them? He could not bring himself to. He sighed and felt his face sag and his shoulders droop. He did not deserve her.

[littlemanpoet]

Tharonwe was unsure whether to give the sleeping woman back the group. He had promised them that he would return her after they had left his swamp, but that meant little to him. His survival and the survival of his plans were more important.

He asked himself what would be likely to happen if he did give her back.

The group would be joyful, but not completely until she woke. And when both woke, they would tell the others what they had dreamed. The older of the two young women, she who was still in Tharonwe's keeping, would doubtless tell them of her brother whom she had seen in her dreams, and would earnestly beg for them to return. For now Tharonwe had come to understand that Amroth was not back in Middle Earth in the flesh, but was borrowing a human, and that human was the brother of his captive. With her earnest pleading, they would retrace their steps, no matter how dangerous, and head back into the swamp. And he would have to kill them, every last one, even the horse and dog.

If he did not give her back, they would be his pawns, and he could continue to play them out according to his need. He could peal off the two youngest ones by means of the merchant's lust for revenge. And then the two rangers would have to choose whether to follow the merchant and his soon to be captives back to Minas Tirith, or continue with the redhead, or strike out on their own. And what would the redhead do? He would continue to do as he was told until the woman was returned to him. Such honor. Such foolishness.

Yes, it would serve his purpose far better to keep the woman captive.

[mark12_30]

From the blackness and despair, slowly, everything turned to grey fog, a chill mist. She could see nothing. She could hear nothing. She felt that she could decide nothing, or desire nothing; that was not quite true. But to feel or desire or decide took tremendous effort, and was hardly worth it. She watched the fog.

At first, it was a relief.

After many hours, even in her dreams she thought she would go mad.

[mark12_30]

Nethwador watched Mellondu as Celegoer Beorneth and Echo trotted steadily along the riverbank. Behind them, Erebemlin and Taitheneb watched Mellondu's back uneasily, probing, listening, waiting, watching. Erebemlin, grim-faced, steadily ignored the rest of the troop. Taitheneb 's eyes often studied his icy leader, but to no avail.

Mellondu whistled often, sang sometimes, and spoke little. He was happy, except for two things; he was worried, now that he knew his sister was pursuing him; and he was restless, not knowing where Nimrodel might be. But to be on horseback in a company with two elves, two women, and three other companions from other lands was the height of romance and intrigue-- bested only by the purpose of the quest. He submitted joyously to the enchantment enjoying every moment of it.

If only I knew that my sister was safe, I would be happy.

But that was not quite true. He also missed Nimrodel; missed her lovely eyes, her lilting voice, her shimmering hair and her comforting arms.

Best not to think on that.

They trotted on and on, Erebemlin watching for any sign that his lord was still with them.

Late that afternoon he found what he sought. A flicker, a spark; a flame. The king's anger burned, he cried for vengeance, and suddenly like a ready beacon answering the torch, the young blacksmith turned to Erebemlin and Taitheneb and met their eyes. The king had returned.

Echo turned to block the group and halted; suprised, the troop milled to a halt. Sudden questions were hushed by Erebemlin's upraised hand; the elf leaned forward to listen.

He spoke in a low voice. "Close your minds, Taitheneb, Erebemlin. All of you; close your thoughts, even to one another. There is one to the south who deceives and darkens; we will find him, and I will have vengeance, my friends. Perhaps this is why I have come. We ride now. I will not stop for nightfall; let them who cannot keep up turn aside. "

Echo tossed his head, spun on his haunches, and in moments the troop was strung out at a steady gallop. Ahead and to their left, the rugged lands tumbled around Rauros; even in the distance, the falls were loud, and as they passed to the southwest of them as night fell, the roar of the falls mingled with the thunder of the hooves.

They left the falls behind them, and rode on. Ahead of them the swamps of the Entwash lay flat and dreary; they halted at the first stream, and Nethwador and Taitheneb watched as Amroth surveyed the land. Erebemlin pointed. "My lord, a path."

Ædegard muttered, "If that is anything more than a rabbit trail, then I am king of this swamp."

Liornung smiled and whispered a reply. "You still do not trust their elf-eyes, good Ædegard? I fear you will find few rabbits here. I will write you a merry coronation song, o swamp-king."

Despite their weariness, the ladies giggled.

Erebemlin hushed them sharply, and Taitheneb trotted forward to the path. They strung out in single-file, Taitheneb, Amroth, Nethwador, Erebemlin, the ladies, Liornung, Ædegard. All night long the only noise was the buzz of flies, the soft creaking of saddle-leather, and the subdued squishing of muddy hooves. They crossed the fifth stream as the eastern stars faded in the greying sky. Bella swayed in the saddle, and Argeleafa spoke to her; Erebemlin shushed her harshly.

Dawn came, and the sixth and seventh streams passed. Horses stumbled; men yawned. Still Amroth drove them southeast. Nethwador watched uneasily; the eyes of all three elves were icy fire. The ground under them grew firm, and the elves' faces became grim.

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan woke. The sun was just above the horizon. Looking around, he saw that none of the others had woken yet. There was Ravion and Erundil, and Aeron. And Gwyllion.

Mellonin was not with them.

Raefindan felt the bile rise to his throat. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs, accusing the swamp elf of cold hearted lies. He found himself on his feet, his fists curled tightly. He was holding his breath. He exhaled, and rested his hands on his knees.

He looked up again. Had that been laughter? Or just a beast snuffling in the distance? He was not sure.

His breath made vapor. He clapped himself with his arms to stay warm. Gond nickered. Jorje lifted his head, perked an ear, and whined. The sounds woke Ravion.

"Good morning, Ravion."

"To you as well."

"Well, not so good, really."

Ravion's head came up and he squinted at Raefindan, waiting.

"No Mellonin."

Ravion's eyes closed and he took in breath as if he had received a physical blow.

"The lying, treacherous elf," Ravion murmured.

"Speak not too loudly or you may have an arrow in your tongue."

Ravion humphed. "I know it only too well." He stood and woke Erundil while Raefindan tapped Aeron on the shoulder.

Soon all were awake and talking, except for Gwyllion. Aeron was studying her. Raefindan could imagine Aeron's fear that she might never wake up.

"Aeron, try and wake her."

[littlemanpoet]

He had not shown it to Raefindan, but Ædegard was enraged. Someone had taken Leafa hostage; an enemy of Amroth, by the looks of it. Ædegard loosened his sword in its sheath. He would kill anyone who so much as plucked a hair from her head against her will.

He overheard Amroth's words. "We shall not be divided again. We shall find Bella, and return for Argeleafa. She will not be far from the one who defies me."

I will not leave her unlooked for. He pulled his horse to the side of the path and let the others by. Raefindan stopped and eyed him curiously.

"You are unused to sword and bow and arrow, friend," said Ædegard. "I'll take the rearguard."

"My thanks." Raefindan's horse moved ahead. Ædegard let him go around a brambly bend, just out of sight, before he turned his horse about, seeking out the path the Elves had been talking about.

It was early afternoon and Ædegard's stomach growled. They had not stopped to eat since Amroth had urged them to their eight league gallop. And they all were overtired; except for the women, according to Raefindan, for they had been taken by this enemy swamp Elf, and made to sleep. If so, Leafa might be the harder to move, and so the easier to find. At least, he hoped so.

What are you? Oh no. He was asking himself strange questions now, so tired and hungry. I am a man of Rohan, and I seek my beloved and betrothed Leafa. Well, fine, now he was answering himself too. I will find her and make that swamp elf pay.

A half hour later, he sat astride his horse at the edge of the swamp, convinced that there was no path branching off the one he had come down. There was nothing that looked remotely like a path! But the Amroth had sounded so certain, and Elf Lords should know these kinds of things. Ædegard wished he had one of those Ranger fellows with him. Determined to find whatever passed for a swamp path, he turned his horse about, and moved slowly down the way, searching carefully from side to side.

Tharonwe

Two of his servants were with the blonde maiden, two with the brunette, and one with him as he moved farther into the swamp with the maid dressed as a man, who had a nasty cold, and was the sister of Amroth, though human. It was odd. Amroth was himself human, beyond all belief, and still he hankered for Nimrodel! He would not have her, and Tharonwe would make sure of it.

One of the eight men had turned his horse around. Tharonwe searched him out carefully. What are you?

I am a man of Rohan, and I seek my beloved and betrothed Leafa. I will find her and make that swamp elf pay. Tharonwe grinned. The man thought that he was talking to himself. So it went most often with humans. So the blonde maiden was the betrothed of this Rohirrim. Tharonwe would cloud the man's already tired mind and body, and lead him down a wending way. It would be so simple. Divide and conquer.

Raefindan

Raefindan tried to be quiet. His mounts gear rubbed and chafed and clinked. Why didn't Ædegard's mount make any noise? So quiet he was! He turned to ask Ædegard his question only to discover that he was not there. How long could it have been? He had been watching Gond's tail ahead of him, mesmerized into a kind of half wakefulness, so he was not certain. It could have been five minutes, or an hour.

"Ravion!" he called in a whisper. Ravion looked back. "Ædegard's gone! I don't know how long!"

Ravion passed the news up the line. The Elves stopped. Amroth and Herb Emblem looked very wrathful indeed. The other Elf came back down the path to Raefindan. Tate Enid, or something.

"How long has Ædegard been gone?"

"I don't know. I lost track of time. How long have we been moving on this path?"

"Nigh to an hour."

"Then he has been missing for almost an hour! Why would he do that?"

"I know not. He is no coward. A moment." Tate Enid closed his eyes and his face calmed. After a moment, he opened his eyes. "Ædegard seeks his betrothed, who was captured by our foe."

"He's in trouble alone. That Elf means business. You're an Elf. You can find him. Will you?"

Tate Enid shrugged. "I will speak with my lords and do as they bid." Tate Enid went back up the path toward Amroth and Erb Emlin.

This was not good. Just when Amroth had said to keep from being divided, Ædegard runs off. Did he think he could save his beloved, on his own? What was he thinking? He hoped Tate Enid would be sent to find him.

[mark12_30]

The fog melted away.

Horses, running, running; weariness; anger; wrath; despair.

You have abandoned us, my sister and I. Faithless, faithless. You are without honor. Beasts! You care nothing for us. Your words seemed fair, but they were truly foul. Liars! You are no friends! Faithless! Faithless!

The girl cried out in her dreams again With a curse, Tharonwe covered her mouth again; but the smaller elf turned his head even as they galloped towards the mercenaries.

"Despiccable wench!" spat Tharonwe under his breath. Did he have time to move himself and his prisoner before they returned?

[alaklondewen]

Elvish reactions and arrival to the scene.

[littlemanpoet]

"Despicable wench!" spat Tharonwe under his breath. Did he have time to move himself and his prisoner before they returned? Better yet, did he have time to capture the two women the Elves and Men had unthinkingly left behind? All was at a gamble now. Much was at stake. Tharonwe spared not another moment.

"Guard this one. I shall bring back two more." He ordered four of his slaves to accompany him. They hated leaving the swamp, but they were at his mercy. He promised them food, the very special kind they craved.

It was such an easy thing to catch up to the two human women, no matter how fast they walked. They were not Elves. How stupid the males had been. They did not think the way Tharonwe did. He approached them from behind, silently, and was upon them. The riders on both sides were now a good mile away, and had no thought for these two. Much to their regret later, to be sure.

He pulled out his pipe and two darts, dipped their points in one of his pouches, and blew twice. They both received the darts in the neck, and fell without a sound.

"Pick them up and carry them back, two to a body. Quickly!"