Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[littlemanpoet]

"What are you doing here?" asked Mellondu.

Erebemlin regarded the young human smith with a penetrating gaze. He was little more than a boy, but looked overtired and none too well at the moment. That was not the Elf's concern. Rather, this boy was the chosen vessel of Lord Amroth, blessed by Mandos himself to seek his love, Nimrodel. It was Erebemlin's duty to see that the quest not be waylaid by the fanciful whims, petty jealousies, or nearsighted sense of right and wrong, of a mere human boy.

"I am here to call you to your duty."

Overhearing Erebemlin's words, Mellondu's father and mother came close to see the one who made such a claim, and were surprised that it was an Elf, tall and lordly.

"Who is this, Mellondu," asked his father, "and to what duty does he call you?"

[Orual]

"You know that no spiced wine could be as delightful as your company," Ravion replied dryly. "And--" he began, but cut himself off abruptly. Aeron tilted his head and glanced penetratingly at the Ranger, who scowled. "And it is a fine night to be out, in any case," he ended a bit lamely.

"Of course," Aeron said, his tone mocking, nodding his head sagely. "A fine night."

"And my past experiences in inns have somewhat ruined my taste for them," Ravion added, glaring at the boy. Aeron simply grinned.

They stood in silence a while, Aeron shivering a bit, Ravion getting quite cold but refusing to shiver. It was then that Aeron said, quietly, "I hope you don't soak my head for saying so, but I think that you're missing a lass almost as much as I am."

Ravion whirled on Aeron, ready to let loose with harsh words and perhaps even a cuff, but all of his fury left him in a rush when he saw the rueful smile on Aeron's face. "Aye," Ravion said, his voice hardly above a whisper. "I am missing a lass. Not as much as you are, I do not think, but I am missing her."

Aeron nodded again, and hugged himself closely to ward away the cold. He squinted up at the stars. Ravion followed his line of sight, and sighed deeply. The stars twinkled brightly in the chilly sky, bringing to mind romance and the future, as well as nostalgia and regret. They seemed cold and distant to Ravion. He took a deep breath, and tried to dissolve the shape of Mellonin's face that had suddenly appeared in the stars. He looked at Aeron, whose thoughts were clear on his face. "You are a brave young man, Aeron," Ravion said quietly. Aeron glanced at him. "Braver than I."

[mark12_30]

Mellondu shook his head. "No. No, I do not see that I am duty-bound to this, Erebemlin. I do not." He turned to his father. "Dreams are dreams. I gave them more weight than I should have. I am home; I should not have left you. I am sorry; sorry for the grief I caused you, and the worry, and the pain. I am not leaving you again. I am not abandoning my duty to you again. To my parents," he said, turning back to Erebemlin. "I lost sight of what matters most. I was a fool."

Erebemlin's eyes blazed. "You did not always think so."

"I have changed." Mellondu glared at the elf. "And you have no claim on me. I am not your king. I never was. I'm a blacksmith, too long away from my forge-- and my family."

Erebemlin's eyes softened, and he seemed to falter. "No claim?" he said quietly. "Perhaps you are right. At least, no claim that is truly important. Perhaps you speak the truth."

Mellondu nodded. But Father frowned. "Yet, you do consider that you have a claim, however small," Father said.

Erebemlin spoke slowly. "Small it is, I deem. Were it not for Taitheneb and me, your son would have fallen into madness and not returned. And had we not stayed the will of our king and made him rest, twice your son would have died of a fever. So I may claim his sanity, and twice over, his life. But alas, these are small things, and of little value. I would rather by far a claim on his honor. In sooth I have none. He has made me no promise nor vow, and so he is not beholden to me."

Father turned to Mellondu. "What say you to this?"

Mellondu caught his breath; the elf had trapped him and he knew it. No one in Gondor would consider that claim small-- Mellondu in debt for his mind and his life, not once but twice? His honor, should he ignore that claim, would be shattered. Yet there was more. He looked at the elf with mixed wonder and ire, for he had forgotten the hours he had dreamed with the elf's large hand on his brow; but he had not forgotten the elf's contempt for his mortality. His anger flared again.

"Til now you wasted no love on me, " Mellondu said. "If I owe you my life, then I shall serve you til you release me; honor demands no less. But if I could choose, I would choose a master who cared for his servant. You love your horse, at least?"

Erebemlin frowned. "I do not understand you, man. I have told you I have no claim on your honor. You have given me no vow."

"Yet you twice saved my life, and honor --" Mellondu clenched his teeth-- "demands that I repay that debt, to your satisfaction. Does it not?"

Erebemlin stood still and expressionless. Did men really hold their life and their sanity more dear than their honor? What honor had the boy shown thus far? Erebemlin thought of throwing the boy's offer back in his face; since the boy had no honor, his life was not worth much nor was his sanity, and if he had had any honor at all he would have served his king without pause. But Erebemlin said nothing.

Father sighed. "Master elf, please be so kind as to let me speak with my son in private. We will return to you."

[alaklondewen]

The sun was still low but brightening outside the window of the small room in the inn. Taitheneb sat in a high-backed chair beside the door, gazing unconsciously at the strip of sunlight coming through the drawn curtains. He had taken the duty of watching the swamp elf while Erebemlin attempted to sway the mind of the young blacksmith and the responsibility was unpleasant. Tharonwe’s eyes could be felt on the Lorien elf’s neck, but Taitheneb refused to acknowledge him. Dialogue did not work with Tharonwe. He just twisted words and attempted to dig into one’s insecurities.

He is not worth the effort, Taitheneb told himself more than once as Tharonwe continued to burrow his gaze into the younger elf, waiting for the Lorien elf to drop his guard long enough to enter his mind.

The door creaked open and Taitheneb looked up to meet Erundil’s questioning gaze. The elf nodded, insinuating that no change had come about while the ranger was absent. Erundil returned the nod and crossed the room to the window, pulling the curtain aside only enough to peer through the crack. The stream of light that crossed the room increased and lit the opposite wall, before the ranger let the curtain fall and sat in the chair beside the bed.

“Are you afraid that I might cause harm even to the morning sun?” Tharonwe sat cross-legged on the floor in the shadow of the tall dresser.

Taitheneb shot the elf a sharp look, narrowing his eyes, to quiet him. He then turned to the ranger and nodded toward the window. Erundil rose and opened the curtains, brightening the room and causing his own eyes to blink rapidly at the change.

Taitheneb saw Tharonwe smirk from the corner of his eye, but the younger elf bit his tongue. The awkward silence continued, and Taitheneb wished for the Silmaethor's return.

[mark12_30]

Raefindan watched as Mellonin's happy smile and perky chatter faded to a pale gaping stare. He followed her eyes. Erebemlin stood in the door, and Mellondu and his father were retreating to the back room; father looked very stern, Mellondu looked angry. Very angry.

Mellonin's mother stepped to her side, and slipped her hand through her daughter's arm. "Perhaps we should join them, " said mother. "Your pardon, good Raefindan; please, have some wine." Nodding gracefully to the Rohirrim and the strange wanderer-boy, she led her daughter after her son and her husband, into the tiny back room.

[alaklondewen]

Erebemlin looked into the small house and into the uncertain faces of the young mortals. His eyes followed the blacksmith’s mother and sister into the back of the home and then flitted back to the group of travelers who watched him questioningly.

Young Bellyn stepped forward, fiddling with her fingers anxiously. “Pardon, my lord,” she paused, looking down at her hands, then gazing up into the face of the Elf towering over her. “What is going to happen?” Turning over her shoulder, she searched the faces of her companions for support. “Will the quest be finished? Will we find ever Nimrodel or will this be the end of our journey?”

The Elf pursed his lips, unsure of the response he should give the young woman. He breathed in deeply, flaring his nostrils. Choosing his words carefully, he began, “I am not certain of the outcome, my lady. I do not understand the thoughts and actions of mortals, but…” Erebemlin stopped, furrowing his brows as his eyes alternated back and forth between Bellyn’s sparkling, hope-filled eyes. “But I have hope, my lady.” It was difficult to say what hope Erebemlin had. Was it hope for the return of his king, or hope that a young blacksmith would realize his destiny and choose to defend his honor, whatever that was to a foolish boy. The Elf was uncomfortable trusting the boy to make the right and honorable decision. Amroth’s flame was still within him, however buried. The boy had to feel it, but why could he not surrender to it?

[mark12_30]

Father gently closed the door behind Mellonin and mother. In the heavy silence, Mellonin's nervous fidgeting contrasted with Mellondu's sullen resentment. Father waited; mother's gaze moved across the room.

Finally Mellonin could stand it no longer. "What will you do?"

"Hush, Light-Love, and wait, " murmured mother.

Father gazed at his son. "Mellondu, the elf is cold, but I deem he lies not."

Mellondu's scowl deepened. "Confound him."

"Is it true, " said mother, knowing it was.

"Yes, " said Mellondu through his teeth. "And what else can I do? I must serve him, or lose my honor. And how would I ever regain it, save by serving him?"

"But we just brought you home, " said Mellonin.

"Surely the elf need not leave today, " mother said.

"But what if he never finds her? What if you never find her?" Mellonin cried.

They looked at one another; no one answered.

"Son, " said father softly. "Tell me; do you carry the elf-king even now?"

Mellondu hesitated, wrestling with his anger, unwilling to respond. Slowly he said, "Perhaps; perhaps I-- " His face went red. "Yes. Yes, I do."

Father's eyes went distant; his hand went to his beard, and he slowly turned, went to a chair, and sat in it, deep in thought. Mother turned to her son. "So it would seem that you serve not one, but two, " she said.

"I do not wish to serve either. Not any more, " said Mellondu.

"Are you free to choose?" said Mother.

Tears sprang to Mellondu's eyes, which he angrily dashed away. "It would seem not."

"Son, " said father, "How did the elf-king first come to you?"

Mellondu looked down. "In my dreams."

"And?"

"They were wonderful dreams, and I wanted more, " he said. "But now they are nightmares, and I have had enough; I have had enough." He fought back tears once more. "I just want to stay home."

Father stood and came to Mellondu's side, and laid his hand on his shoulder, saying nothing. Mellondu fought for his composure while Father waited.

"Father, " pleaded Mellonin.

"Hush, daughter, " said Mother, blinking back her own tears. They waited while Mellondu's inner storm lashed and battered him. Slowly, finally, he became calm. Father gave his shoulder a firm shake; Mellondu looked him in the eye, squared his shoulders, and nodded. The sun was westering; the family slowly walked back out into the front room. They looked only at the tall elf.

Mellondu faced Erebemlin. With a steady voice and clear eye, he said, "I will serve you til my life-debt is paid."

Mother tightened her grip around Mellonin's arm. Mellonin's tears would not stop, but Mellonin dashed them away, standing tall with gritted teeth.