Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[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."

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

‘Close your minds, Taitheneb, Erebemlin. All of you; close your thoughts, even to one another.’

The time had gone by slowly since the warning made by Amroth. The passionate travelers rode ever on towards a destination unknown to Bellyn, who was still confused by the words of her companion.

Close my mind? She wondered, biting her lip though she’d had long hours to contemplate the words. How am I ever going to do that? The idea seemed rather absurd to Bellyn, who had no idea how to accomplish such a task. Is my mind like a door? To be opened and shut at will by any who seek to read my thoughts?

Lost in her thoughts, Bellyn swayed and shifted in her saddle. Argeleafa spoke a word to her, but was hushed immediately. Bellyn felt badly for Argeleafa, and shrugged in Erebemlin’s direction at seeing Argeleafa’s hurt face. The seriousness of the ride, when combined with the long, sleepless hours did not help anyone’s mood. Bellyn squeezed her eyes shut, then wiped away the tears accumulated from yawning.

Like weathered trees that had long since grown roots to face the merciless wind, expressions on the Elves remained stony and rough. Dawn did not bring comfort or relief from the harsh night, and it seemed as if hope drifted farther away with every hour spent riding across the land. There seemed no intention of stopping from anyone in the group.

Bellyn dare not speak for fear of Erebemlin’s wrath, but the awkward silence of it all made her want to scream.

[littlemanpoet]

Aeron moved to Gwyllion and nudged her shoulder. "Gwyll?" Her eyes fluttered and opened. "Gwyll!" She winced.

"Ow! Must you scream in my ear, you naughty boy?"

"Gwyll! You're awake!" Raefindan chuckled; Aeron's smile threatened to crack his face, it was so big.

She sat up and looked at him, stunned. "You died! I saw you drown! Or was that a dream?" She closed her eyes and shook her head as if trying to shake away the last cobwebs of sleep.

"The swamp elf took you from us, Gwyll! You've been asleep for days!"

Her eyes went wide, then narrowed to slits. "Do not jest so cruelly with me!"

"It is the truth, Gwyllion," Raefindan said. "It is good to see you awake and yourself."

She looked at Raefindan, confused. "I could not be someone else."

Raefindan smiled. "No, of course not."

"But he still has Mellonin," Ravion grated.

"The swamp elf has Mellonin?" Gwyllion asked, horrified.

"Aye," answered Raefindan. "He holds our choices hostage as long as he keeps her. If his treatment of you is any sign, we would do well to continue to do his bidding, which is to make our way back to Minas Tirith. Maybe he will return her to us safe and sound. Let us break our fast and be ready to go before the sun rises a half a hand's breadth higher."

They did as he said. Soon they were moving south, Jorje romping ahead on the open plain, running freely like he could not on the narrow paths of the swamp.

They halted for a noon meal when the sun was at its height. As they sat in a circle, glum for the lack of Mellonin, a party of a dozen or so men could be seen approaching on horseback from the south.

"Do you see them?" asked Erundil, pointing. "They are far from the road. I wonder what they do so near the swamp?"

"I know not," said Raefindan, "but they seem to be headed our way."

So it was. In another minute, the horsemen had come near enough to be seen clearly.

"Oh no," said Aeron. "That merchant is with them."

Raefindan stood, and the others followed his lead. In moments, they were surrounded by fourteen horsemen, swords drawn. Raefindan picked out their leader by his crested helm, for twelve who were with the merchant and his man at arms, wore soldierly garb.

"Good day to you. Your actions show you to be hostile to us. Why is this?"

"There are two among you who are thieves." He eyed Aeron and Gwyllion pointedly. "We have come to take them back to Minas Tirith, and claim our reward for their capture."

"You may not have them," Raefindan said evenly.

"We shall have them, and you will not stand in our way, at peril to your lives."

[Imladris]

The merchant blinked his eyes at them. They had just gotten through with this some time ago. "You are outnumbered. If you do not let us have them, you will be taken by force. And we will not hesitate to kill." The merchant glanced at one of them and said, "Lord Fingon I believe?"

His eyes flitted and he nodded.

"Ah. I do not believe I have seen a more womanish lord, if man or lord you are."

Fingon's fist clenched.

"Now, as I said," the merchant added languidly as he gestured to the boy and girl, "these two, Aeron and Gwyllion are their names, are thieves. They have never been caught and I believe baskets of stolen necklaces lie buried in their rubbishy hut."

Aeron coughed loudly and said pointedly, "It is very unbecoming of you to accuse the innocent."

"What do you mean boy,?" the merchant asked. He was like a cur. So disrespectful.

"Gwyllion never stole," Aeron said, casting a disdainful eye at the merchangt.

Gwyllion frowned and darted a glance at him.

A light flickered in the merchant's eye. "Never?"

Glaring at his sister, Aeron said, "Well, hardly ever."

"As I said, I will take these two for justice," said the merchant. "These scum have been thieving since the day they were born. Justice is needed."

[mark12_30]

Tharonwe's head turned as a groan escaped from the sleeping woman. He frowned; had he not wrapped her in silence? She should be lying quiet.

She groaned again. He scowled, probing her thoughts, and then recoiled in revulsion as she took a deep breath and sneezed, once, twice, three times, four times.

His eyes blazing with anger, he siezed as much of her cloak as easily came into hsi hands, wound it, and held it tightly over her mouth to quiet her. Half-tempted to snuff her life out, he resisted; she was more useful to him alive than dead. But the wretch would give away their hiding place with her pathetic sickness....

The large group, nearby, was busy discussing the fate of the two theives, and the girl's distant, muffled sneezing was lost amid the quarrel.

[Orual]

Ravion stood stiffly with his hand on the hilt of his sword, practically bristling with rage but attempting to keep his temper, or at least hold his tongue. What was the merchant thinking, returning here? Did he not know what the last few days had been? No, of course not. But Ravion did, and he resented the merchant for choosing this moment. It seemed appropriate, in a grim and darkly ironic way, that the merchant had arrived just after their swift downward spiral into misery had taken a jog upwards with Gwyllion regaining consciousness.

"Justice is needed," declared the merchant haughtily. He tilted his head back slightly, drawing himself taller. He did it so that he could look down his nose at Aeron and Gwyllion.

"Justice," Ravion echoed, with a rough and mirthless laugh. Everyone turned to look at him. He stared back at them for a moment, confused: he had not meant to speak aloud.

"Yes, Ranger, if that is what you truly are, justice," the merchant replied. "It should be an idea that comes easily to your kind. However, it seems to have passed you by. Ranger, indeed."

"I am a Ranger," Ravion shouted in return. Raefindan made a motion for him to control himself, but Ravion dismissed the plea with a wave of his hand. "A Ranger can tell the difference between mercy and justice, and between justice and revenge. You want revenge. I want justice. You should hope that you have earned some cause in your life for mercy, if you come a step closer to this boy."

What was he saying? The words came pouring out of his mouth. He often got into fights this way, but most often they came in taverns. He had not touched a drop of anything but water for months. What loosened his tongue? He felt a dizziness, a thickness in his head, fogging his thoughts. He did not regret his words, but awaited the merchant's response with some trepidation.

[Imladris]

Aeron swallowed and dug at the dirt with his toe. This was not going well. How typical that something like this had to happen right after Gwyll got better...

The merchant arched his brow. "Revenge is the sordid mud upon a vile creature's shoes," he whispered softly. "However, I am not a vile creature, but a wealthy merchant." A flicker of pride sprinted across his face. "However," he growled, "I have other merchant friends who have been robbed of valuable jewelry. They say the thief is tall and lanky, and that he has a mop of brown hair. Isn't that right, Glomer?" he asked sharply, jerking his head towards a plump merchant who was staring keenly at the two children.

He nodded, the barest implication of a double chin wagging its agreement as well.

"And you, Selmer?" the merchant asked again, pointing to an abysmally thin man. Selmer sniffed and said, "I am sure the boy took my ring..." He toyed with plain ring upon his finger. "This one suffers without his crowned mate," he whispered.

Aeron winced. The Queen Ring had been a beautifully decked Sapphire that had begged to be stolen...

"As you can see," said the merchant pleasantly, "this boy -- Aeron -- has made quite a name for himself. This is not a petty case of revenge, but indeed a matter of justice. And rest assured," he whispered, "I will have it."

[littlemanpoet]

"This is not a petty case of revenge, but indeed a matter of justice. And rest assured," whispered the merchant, "I will have it."

The leader of the men at arms moved his horse one step forward at the cue from the merchant. "Remove your hands from your weapons and step back from the two who are under arrest. If you do not, it will go badly for you."

Raefindan looked to Ravion, whose eyes were already narrowed, and he seemed like a spring ready to be unsprung. Spring - unsprung. This was no time for mulling over strange words. Raefindan looked to Erundil, who gave nothing away, watching the mercenary leader with half closed eyes. He seemed balanced, ready to move forward or back, depending on the need. Raefindan looked at his own feet. They were planted firm and flat, the stance of someone unused to war and battle, and rarely caught amid altercation. Erundil should be leading them now, not he. What would Erundil do if he were in my place? Fourteen to five, one of whom was a girl, another of whom was one untrained in anything but the use of his mind. So that meant that they were really outnumbered at least three to one.

"We will stand down," Raefindan said at length.

"No!" Aeron flared on him angrily.

"But we shall track you back to Minas Tirith, and we shall bring our complaint against you to the throne if we must."

The merchant grinned. "Then we shall have to make sure that you are unable to return in time. Take their horse."

"No!" Ravion shouted, and his hand flew back to his blade. The mercenaries had their blades out in the next moment, and seven of them had started moving forward.

"Ravion!" Erundil called. "It is no great matter. They can take Gond. It will change nothing." The mercenaries stopped.

Raefindan smiled. He liked this man's determination and courage. "Ravion, please remove your hand from your sword. We don't want to give them any excuses."

Ravion removed his hand from his sword and gave Gond a slap on the rump, sending the horse, toward the mecernaries in a startle.

"Treat Gond well, or it will go ill for you later. Be assured, I will know, and I will find you."

"There is no need for threats," the mercenary leader said. "We are honorable men. We will give your horse good care. Tell me where to leave it in Minas Tirith, and I shall do that." The merchant was glowering at the mercenary leader.

Ravion had caught the merchant's look. "If you were honorable as you say, you would not allow the theft of my horse." The man looked away in discomfiture. "But you may prove that you have some honor if you make sure that this scoundrel does not sell Gond from under your noses. Take him to the White Tree Inn. They will remember me there, and they will remember Mellonin. Give them that name. Will you do that?"

"I am a paid man," said their leader, "and this merchant gives us our orders. But I will see that this horse is kept as surety rather than as property. To the White Tree Inn he goes. You have the word of Benemal of Lebennin."

The merchant's brow raised. "Mellonin? That name is new." Then his eyes widened in sudden realization. "A member of your party is missing, though you have gained a new one. What has happened to the maidenly man?"

"It is none of your business," Raefindan said. "Take your captives and leave us. The quicker we can begin our chase." He gestured to Ravion and Erundil to back away from Aeron and Gwyllion. "Never fear, my friends, we will not be far behind."

"But you will be on foot!" Aeron growled, filled with pent up fury.

"I know not, but we will find a way. Farewell!" Benemal of Lebennin, thought Raefindan. Pieces of language from his past fell into place. Bene means good while mal means bad. One may suppose that this man has a little bit of both in him. They would have to hope that the good won out over the bad.

[Imladris]

A cold avalanch of anger tumbled in Aeron's stomach. Raefindan had let them go. Raefindan had said, with a nice big smile, that he didn't care what the merchants did to them. If he had cared he wouldn't have handed them over without a fight. What happened to friends sticking together? WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THIS NOBLENESS THEY WERE ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT? It all disappeared when there was a fight afoot.

Aeron ran his fingers through his hair and considered making a run for it. He glanced at Gwyllion, at her pale pointed face as she backed slowly away from the merchants. How could Raefindan consign her to a cold dank prison? He scowled at her and then flicked his face towards the merchants. She frowned in confusion, and then nodded as understanding lit upon her face.

Aeron shot a dirty look at Raefindan. He had expected Ravion to have pulled a stunt like this, not Raefindan. Raefindan...how could he? How could he have agreed with what Ravion said of nobility and then do this? He could feel the anger lick his insides like an angry flame as his hand balled in a fist.

As one of the mercenaries neared, Aeron shouted something that he would assuredly not have said if he was in a more favourable mood towards Raefindan, and barreled into the mercenary, knocking him to the ground. Catching his balance, Aeron spared a look towards Gwyllion who was sprinting across the landscape.

Without a backwards glance, he sped after her, until he was running neck and neck besider her. He could feel the hoofprints pound dully behind him, yet he was not expecting the weight that bore him into Gwyllion, thus making them both tumble to the ground.

Gwyllion shrieked, raking at the soldiers with her nails, flailing wildly as the men tried to bind her hands with thongs. Her shrieks turned into screams of terror, as blood began to ooze from the soldier's cheek.

Aeron wriggled from one of the mercenaries, and leaped to the back of the men binding Gwyllion, locking his throat in a strangle hold. "LET US GO!" he heard her shriek. "LET US GO!"

He could feel hands pry him from the back of the shoulder, hands tackling him to the ground. He struggled, but they pushed him onto his stomach, prying his arms until they nearly came from their sockets. Tight leather bound his wrists together.

He was jerked to his feet and dragged to one of the horses.

Ravion, Raefindan, and the other ranger had just stood there.

"HOW COULD YOU!" he screamed, still struggling. "HOW DARE YOU!" He wanted to hit Raefindan, hurt him. Why...Aeron had tried to tell them that they could fight, yet they had done nothing. They had just stood there, complacently watching them being led away to their dooms. He snorted. Did they think that the king would care about a thief? Did he think that the courts would plead them innocent when they would be swayed by the jingling purses of the merchant?

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan looked on sadly as Aeron and Gwyllion did what he too would have done in their place. Aeron did not understand. It would be a fight to the death, and no one's death was worth a courageous last stand, not for the sake of honor, freedom, nothing short of their very lives. Maybe that was wrong thinking, it occurred to Raefindan, but he had never found himself in such a spot before, and as sure as he was of what he valued, he wondered if he was really doing the right thing. He knew that he had to believe that there would be a way, short of foolhardy death. He turned to Ravion and Enduril.

"You two follow them to Minas Tirith. Get Gond back, of course, and make sure that they are treated with all the mercy and decency that captivity allows."

"What will you do?" Ravion frowned.

"I will stay here in hopes that Mellonin will be returned to us."

"I will stay with you," Ravion said. "Erundil can go to Minas Tirith and recover Gond. He can do better than I in speaking for Aeron and Gwyllion."

"I think not. He hardly knows them. They need someone who knows them."

"Then you go to Minas Tirith!"

"I am no Ranger to track them."

"You and Erundil!"

Raefindan put his hand to his chin, not sure which way to decide. Maybe Ravion should stay instead of himself. Maybe Erundil could go back to Minas Tirith alone. After all, he had not agreed to this quest of Mellonin's; Raefindan and Ravion had.

"Okay then, Ravion, you and I will stay here, and Erundil will go to Minas Tirith." Raefindan turned to the other Ranger. "Is that acceptable to you?"

Raefindan followed Erundil's eyes toward the mercenaries and merchants, who had Aeron and Gwyllion well in hand now, and were hoisting them onto horses in front of one mercenary each. Aeron looked back at Raefindan in rage.

I'm sorry, Aeron. I wish there was a better way. He kept his mouth closed and did not look away from the boy, but allowed his face to show his sorrow.

"I will follow them," Erundil said. "Maybe they think that justice is being done here, and maybe it is after a fashion, but all is not right here. I will do my best to set things aright. You have my word on that."

"My thanks, Erundil," said Raefindan as he watched the mercenaries and their captives begin to walk away back south.

[mark12_30]

They crested a low hill, and halted; their minds had been tightly closed per Amroth's orders, and they did not expect to see the party of fourteen on the horizon. The elves held up one hand each.

"Seventeen men, my lord, " whispered Taitheneb, his mind still shut tight. The men and ladies pressed their horses closer to hear the elves' whispers.

Amroth's lips tightened; he squinted and stared, but to no avail. He glanced at Erebemlin, who shook his head. "Twelve armed men, four unarmed, and one girl; sixteen horses, " whispered the taller elf, an edge of reproach in his voice. Taitheneb aquiesced.

"And there, " pointed Erebemlin, "Three more men. Two stand still, the third begins to follow the riders."

Taitheneb nodded again, chagrined that he had missed the three men on foot.

"One of them, " continued Erebemlin, "has chestnut hair."

"Chestnut hair!" said Amroth.

Erebemlin nodded. "Yes, my lord. Glossy and red."

"Does he grieve?"

Erebemlin, somewhat taken aback, turned to study the distant figures. "His back is to me. He turns... His face is sad."

Amroth's eyes blazed. "He is bereft. I know this man. Take me to him quickly!"

"My lord?" Erebemlin asked even as he turned his mount to obey. Minds still closed tight, the three elves surged forward. The exhausted band followed as best they could. When Bella and Argeleafa's horses lagged, Liornung and Ædegard kept an eye on them. The three elves and Nethwador arrived at the two walkers first. In the distance, the third man hesitated, staring back over his shoulder.

Amroth rode straight to the redhaired man. "I grieve with you, friend. Your loss is deep."

The redhaired man tore his gaze from the elves. "I beg your pardon?"

"I share your grief!"

The other, brownhaired man glanced at the elves, and nodded. "Yes, our loss is deep. Can you aid us?"

Erebemlin looked at Amroth. "What loss do you speak of, my lord?"

"Yes; which one?" asked the redhaired man. "There've been a few, if you don't mind my saying so."

Ædegard and Liornung came into sight, and behind them Bella and Argeleafa.

The brownhaired man looked up at Amroth, and said, "If not for your air-- you look like..."

Amroth ignored him and spoke to the redhaired man. "You search for the one you love. She has vanished into the wild, and you know not where. And your heart finds no rest without her."

The two men nodded, but the brownhaired man spoke again. "You look much like her."

Amroth ignored him again. "The love you seek-- her fate is woven with mine, is it not?"

"Excuse me?" replied the redhaired man. "Perhaps you might give me a name?"

Amroth dismounted and walked towards the red haired man.

The redhaired man said, "You look like Mellonin."

The sister of Mellondu! thought Amroth.

A sharp cry from the brownhaired man brought them all up short. "It must be he! We have found him-- and lost her!" Amroth found himself face to face with the brownhaired man.

"Ravion, " said the redhaired man, "Wait. Let him speak--"

"They are as like as twins! It cannot be otherwise! The quest is ended, yet to whom do we give the prize?" said Ravion, with a mix of woe and fury taking Amroth's shoulder. "O Raefindan, I am a fool!"

"Unhand him!" cried Erebemlin, wrenching Ravion away from Amroth. Ravion was too anguished to care, and turned to Erebemlin with such a look of woe he won Taitheneb's pity.

Amroth nodded. Raefindan-- Red-Haired Man.

Ravion looked up at Ædegard, Argeleafa, and Liornung. "Mellondu rides with Rohirrim, and comes back home. Had we but waited! And now she is captive!"

So he knows my young blacksmith friend Mellondu. Well enough. But he was not in my dream. Amroth turned to Raefindan. "Captive?"

He nodded. "Alas, yes. And so are our beloved thieves."

Amroth's brow knit. "Thieves? That is no loss."

"They were bound to me, " replied Ravion, "and we failed them."

Amroth met his gaze.

"I failed them, " said Ravion.

"The point is, " said Raefindan, "that they were part of us, and bound to us, and now are lost to us; they were taken from us against our will."

Amroth's eyes hardened. "Then they will be restored to you."

Ædegard looked at the troop on the horizon. "Six of us against twelve armed men?"

Taitheneb spoke. "Five men and three elves, against fifteen men."

Bella and Argeleafa exchanged glances; what would they do in a fight?

"Three elves?" asked Ravion. "I see two elves and four men..."

"They're getting further away as we speak, " replied Liornung.

Amroth turned to the ladies. "Your horses. These two men need mounts. We will return to you quickly." Taitheneb and Erebemlin swiftly loosened swords and strung bows even as Argeleafa slipped off of her horse. Bella hesitated. "Hurry, " Argeleafa said. Bella slid off.

Wide-eyed, Raefindan strung his bow, and muttered under his breath; Ravion had given him six arrows; that meant Ravion was short. Raefindan loosened his dagger. Even as he realized he did not know what to do in battle with a horse or without one, Bella was handing him the reins.

The two ladies stood alone on the plains as the eight riders thundered southwest.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

The plains felt lonely and seemed eerie with the two ladies standing together, stranded alone as the men went off to save some stranger. The situation had been completely lost on the confused Bellyn, who felt utterly swamped in all the events that moved so quickly from one to another. Her jaw remained dropped, her eyes remained wide, and her surprise remained written on her face. Their companions had completely deserted the two ladies. The distaste for how quickly her companions would drop them off could be clearly seen in her horrified hazel eyes.

And Argeleafa! "Hurry," she had said to Bellyn. At first, Bellyn only obliged and gave her horse up willingly. Now the Gondorian girl's formerly pale cheeks flushed red in anger at the word of her Rohirric friend. Did she not also feel anguish at being left behind? All because we are women...Bellyn thought bitterly.

The two women began to walk slowly in the direction that the men had taken. Bellyn kicked the ground harshly with each step, and Argeleafa gazed loftily at the dust flying upwards, saying naught. Bellyn's brows furrowed in unnecessary fury, and if Bellyn had been less offended by the action of her friends she might have seen the folly in her anger. However, the Gondorian lady could only be cured of her upset heart by the patience of a friend...

"Leafa, are you not also angry that we were left behind?" Bellyn finally murmured when she felt as if her voice could stay at a controlled level. Her dark hair snapped gently at her face, and the soft breeze brought Bellyn's inner fire to a dull roar with its cool touch. Bellyn looked up at Argeleafa, who thought on Bellyn's words for a moment before answering.

"What would we have done to help if we had gone in the place of two men, Bella?" Argeleafa asked, and Bellyn frowned. She is right...Bellyn realized quickly. Argeleafa continued with the answer, "We would have helped little."

"I know," Bellyn replied softly. The words escaped her lips sullenly. She did not like being wrong. She liked it even less when she realized her wrong in front of another. "I only feel angered, I suppose, at being so readily left behind."

"They will return for us, when all is finished," Argeleafa attempted to comfort and quell Bellyn's worries.

"But we were so quickly dropped in favor of those who Amroth does not know. A pair of thieves. It is not done," Bellyn argued. She felt badly for placing such angry weights on Argeleafa's shoulders, but the others had left them. "But...I do see the folly of my thoughts. My words were rash and I was quick to act as the judge of my friends. You will not speak of my former anger to Liornung? Or Amroth? Or even Ædegard and our Elf-friends? I feel ashamed..."

[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!"

[Imladris]

"Assaulting me was not the smartest thing you could have done, boy," the merchant said pleasantly. "You wouldn't want to be known as a murderous thief now, would you?"

"I didn't try to murder you," said Aeron tartly. He glowered sullenly at the horse's mane. "I was trying to get away so I wouldn't languish in jail for the rest of my short life."

"Well, maybe you will learn," the merchant hissed softly, "not to go stealing other people's jewels."

"One must survive," Aeron said hotly.

"Better to die in the dirt then than to take up a life of thievery."

Aeron wanted to shout at him, tell the merchant that such nobleness was viewed a bit differently on the other side of the fence, that he wouldn't feel like that if he saw his sister miserable with hunger.

But the merchant would not understand. None of them understood.

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan

As they galloped after the merchant and mercenaries, Raefindan watched the back of the man who was Mellonin's brother. His mind whirled as he tried to hold onto reins and bow at the same time. I grieve with you, friend. Your loss is deep. Which loss? You search for the one you love. She has vanished into the wild, and you know not where. And your heart finds no rest without her. Angela? She's dead! The love you seek-- her fate is woven with mine, is it not? How could her fate be woven with Mellonin's brother? And what was he doing with Elves? And how did this man know him? How could he? Why did he act like a king? Was he?

As they neared the mercenaries, his questions took a back seat to a more pressing one. How am I going to fight these mercenaries?

Ædegard

Ædegard eyed the new men. They were not Rohirrim. The red haired man seemed akin to the Rohirrim; maybe he was a northman. The two others seemed to be Gondorian; they handled their horses and weapons with ease. The red haired man was no fighter or rider. It was easy to see from how he handled horse and weapons. Ædegard had never been in battle either, too young for the War; but all young men of Rohan were given training in arms, especially those who lived in Edoras. Ædegard would be ready, and would show himself adept. He would die well if it came to that. It was the way of his folk.

Jorje

The pack was changing again! Red man was still lead dog now, but for how long? That other pack had taken away the two mancubs and red man had not even fought them! They needed cubs, or the pack would suffer! But this new man was a strong one! All these one toed, big dogs! He was going to yell, but the one toe dogs all had their own lead dogs. All the men got on a one toe dog! Would one try to get on his back? No. The females were left walking. Chase or stay? Chase of course! Jorje ran after the one toe dogs. They were fast! They were chasing that other pack. Were they going to try to get the mancubs back? He would help. with his voice. He would yell! And with his teeth. He would bite, but only if one of them fell from a one toe dog. Those toes were hard and could hurt his mouth.

[Orual]

As Ravion rode with Raefindan and the others, he sorely regretted Gond's absence. He was a good enough rider to ride any horse he was given, but a man grows accustomed to his horse, especially when he had ridden the same horse for so very long. He missed Gond.

No, it was something else that he missed.

He let his gaze drift from his destination over to the young man. Mellonin's brother. His heart felt a pang as he glanced at him. How he had failed her! He turned his head away quickly, lest Mellonin's brother could see the pain that twisted his expression.

Mellonin, he thought, hoping that somehow she could hear him. I have found him, and lost you. You placed your trust in the wrong man. I am sorry. I will not, for your sake, let any harm come to your brother...and I will find you.

[mark12_30]

Amroth slowed to a canter. He motioned to Taitheneb to ride to his left, and Erebemlin to his right. He waved Nethwador, Ædegard, Liornung, and the strangers behind them.

He spoke to Taitheneb. "Strengthen the prisoners and guide them." Then he turned to Erebemlin. "Strive with the hireling's commander. I will strive with the greedy one."

He called to the men behind him. "Be cold, and stern; stay well back."

The three elves set their faces toward the troops on the horizon, and their pace slowed to a slow, deliberate canter. Their faces were stony, their eyes like ice. The men exchanged glances behind them. Raefindan 's horse broke into a fast unsteady trot, and he slipped and slithered til Ravion hissed at him. "Sit, squeeze, and hold. Drive him into the bit!" Raefindan struggled, watching Ravion's horse, and tried to copy him, but his horse only slowed further.

"Pull his chin in and stiffen your back, " Ravion persisted. "MAKE him do it!"

What on earth this had to do with war and fighting, Raefindan could not imagine, but in desperation, he clamped down on the reins and thumped the horse with his heels. The horse surged forward, and he hauled backwards on the reins; gagging, the horse cantered with his ears pinned flat.

"Not quite so tight, " Ravion hissed. But they were approaching the mercenaries, and Ravion forgot Raefindan as he watched the elves.

The two farsighted elves watched the mercenaries. They were satisfied to see fear growing in the eyes of the soldiers; Erebemlin bore down on the mind of their leader til the leader's will all but buckled, and his men could see the fear in his eyes, and their own hearts quailed.

The merchant gestured to his two friends, and they drew off to one side.

Taitheneb and Erebemlin, riding with no bridle or bit, each nocked an arrow; Ravion wrapped his reins through his last two fingers of his left hand, and managed to nock an arrow and still control his horse.

That is something I know how to do, thought Raefindan, except-- I've never done it on horseback. And how do I make the horse keep cantering while I do it? Imitating Ravion, he threaded his reins around his last two fingers. HIs horse broke into a trot. He bounced hard, and bit his tongue.

Desperate, he stood in the stirrups, and suddenly was comfortable. Adding a tangle of mane to his reins, he nonetheless drew an arrow from his quiver, and then tried to nock it, wondering how he would untangle his bow from the reins and the mane. They were almost upon the mercenaries. He clenched his teeth tight, and swallowed the blood from his tongue. The arrow was nocked. The company slowed to a trot, and then to a walk.

The dozen mercenaries gazed white-eyed at the two elves. Liornung and Ædegard had drawn their swords; Raefindan's bow-hand had come untangled in time for him to raise his bow when Ravion did. Raefindan, taking the elves' lead, aimed at the leader. Ravion aimed at the man holding Gwyllion, then at the man holding Aeron.

"Give us the theives, and you will live, " said Erebemlin.

"You'll pay for this, stammered one of the soldiers, but the leader silenced him with a hand. "Do not incite their magic!" he said in a trembling voice.

With a deft twist, the boy-thief wrenched himself free of his captor and awkwardly jumped off the horse. The girl-thief did not have the strength to do so. Liornung rode to Gwyllion's side. His blade flashed, and he cut her bonds; but at the flash of the blade, she screamed "Aeron!" Liornung had nicked her skin. The boy yelled "Gwyllion! Come to me!"

She ran to him, weeping. Raefindan's horse snorted, and shied. Ravion rode forward, and snatched Gond's lead from the man who held it; Gond jumped forward, and Ravion held on. The two horses lurched off to the side.

[littlemanpoet]

The oily merchant turned scarlet in his wrath. He turned on the mercenary leader. "You cannot just give them up! This is about justice!"

"These are Elves, fool. They have won this battle. There will be another chance. Later." He turned his horse and kicked its sides, galloping away. His men followed quickly after. The fat and thin merchants watched the oily one, glancing nervously at the Elves.

"Blast and smite it all! I will have you yet, you little scoundrel!" The oily merchant turned his horse away and the other two followed.

"These two need to ride," said Amroth. "What are your names?" Raefindan, Ravion, and Erundil introduced themselves, as did Aeron and Gwyllion. The two Elves naming themselves Erebemlin and Taitheneb; the men were Liornung, Ædegard, and Nethwador. "I am Amroth."

"Amroth?" Raefindan asked. "But you died at sea." Now, how did he know that? "Or have you been reborn?" And how did he know of that possibility? From books! That was it! He had read about this Amroth! He kept that to himself for the moment.

"We will talk of such things later," Amroth replied. "Raefindan, take Aeron, and Ravion, take Gwyllion."

"I'm not riding with him!" Aeron shouted. "He betrayed me!"

"What? How?" asked Amroth.

"He let them have us without a fight!"

"You were greatly outnumbered. He did wisely."

"I don't care! He should have done something! At any rate, I'm not riding with him."

"Erundil?" Raefindan asked. "Will you take Aeron?"

Erundil nodded. Aeron and Gwyllion clambered on their respectively assigned mounts, and they headed back to the two women; who were nowhere to be seen.

"They were following us, were they not?" asked Liornung. None answered him. Erundil called Ravion to the front of the group, and asked the others to stay back as they traced the ground they had passed over. It was a short while later that Erundil raised his hand.

"They stood here last!"

Ravion came over. They studied the area together and reported back to the others what they had discerned. The two women had been walking, but had fallen to the ground. Their were tracks of four others, seemingly barefoot, and smaller than men. The footprints were heavier going back to the swamp than coming.

Erebemlin had them show him what they had found, and studied the ground himself. At last he rose and said, "There was an Elf with the four smaller ones. His fëa passed here."

"The one who opposes us!" cried Amroth. "To the swamp!"

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung's brow was drawn and his face was dark. When the others spurred their horses towards the swamp, he lingered a few moments longer, and his eyes were fixed on the spot where the two maids had stood. What foul creature had taken them he could not say, but anger rose up within him against the scoundrels, and his fist opened and closed, and he sat tense and stern.

"Curse them!" he muttered. "Curse them!" Upon the last word his voice broke, and his hand went to his eyes to stem the tears that threatened to rise. If anything had happened to the maids there would be such a play of anger and sorrow that had never been heard in song, and the Ballad would be written to wrench the heart of man with grief, and inflame it with anger.

His heels came against the sides of his steed, and the bay horse sprang forward in nervous tension, swift and prancing at the sense of his anger. Liornung rode to the group and onwards towards the swamp.

[Imladris]

Gwyllion closed her eyes and leaned against Ravion. At the very last she had felt a golden strength come to her mind, a comfort that whispered to her not to be afraid. Even when the cruel blood had flowed from her gash it had not faltered, but had sought to comfort her. She wondered if Aeron had felt the same thing.

It was then that she realized that she was in the presence of evles -- elves! She glanced askantly at them. They were so beautiful...and noble. How had they come among them, simple thieves as themselves?

[Orual]

Ravion rode gently for Gwyllion, keeping a firm rein on Gond, though he knew that his horse would sense the need for gentleness. The girl, while seeming relaxed, stared around herself at the Elves that the company had fallen in with. She was leaning against him, supremely trusting and confident, and Ravion could not sense any trace of fear in her--her run-in with the merchants was not forgotten, surely, but recovered from. She was, perhaps, in awe of the Elves, but she was certainly not frightened.

He felt her sigh deeply, her shoulders rising and falling slowly. He smiled a little, though the ache that still gripped his heart seemed to keep his lips from moving too far. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Quite better!" Gwyllion replied, sounding remarkably chipper. "Do you know, I only cried a little bit when I got cut?"

Ravion's smile grew a tiny bit. "I noticed that." He sounded light, but truly, he was quite relieved by Gwyllion's relatively mild reaction. It showed growth, and it showed that she was becoming accustomed to the sort of lifestyle she would be leading.

He saw her watching the Elves, her eyes, keener than one might think, scanning them deeply. Ravion looked at those eyes, and fancied that she could see right through them, her penetrating gaze rooting out even the deepest secrets of the Elves. He nudged Gond on a bit, staring squarely ahead of himself, but not really seeing the ground. He would leave the observation to Gwyllion.

[littlemanpoet]

As he rode along with the rest of the party back toward the swamp, Raefindan was having difficulty keeping all the new names straight. The Elvish names were especially difficult. Herb Emblem? No, that was too like a name from his past. Ted Enid? Same problem. He would have to pay more attention the next time their names were used. In fact, all the names here were strange. Nether Door? Sounded more like a place than a name. Leonard? Ardis Leafa? That one actually sounded nice. Bella. Now, there was a name he could understand! And then this other one, Addle Guard? What kind of name was that? He must have it wrong. For that matter, the names of his own friends were unusual. Shouldn't Mellonin by Melanie? Gwyllion ought to be Gwendolyn, shouldn't it? Aeron should be Aaron, and Erundil would serve better as a, well, another Aaron, but with Dill on the end. Such strange names. What a pickle.

He found himself riding next to one of the young men from the Elves' group. His hair was dark blonde and long, and braided in the fashion of some northern people from his own memory's history.

"You are from Rohan?" he asked the other.

"Aye. Edoras. We have traveled from there to Lorien, then through the swamp along the Anduin, then here." He extended his right hand across his body toward Raefindan. "I am Ædegard. I did not catch your name well, friend."

Raefindan shook Ædegard's hand, and he spoke his name again; then his eyes flew open with sudden recognition. "Edgar!"

Ædegard shook his head. "I do not understand."

"Your name would be Edgar where I come from."

Ædegard's brow rose briefly. "Your name sounds like the Elvish."

"That it is, and is not my true name. I do not know my true name. I have lost my memory. The first thing I can remember clearly is standing before the gates of Minas Tirith, some few weeks ago. There I met Mellonin in the city, serving as an innkeeper's helpmaid."

"And I met Mellon in Edoras; though now I have learned that his name is Mellondu. Such a strange business! But you said that my name is known to you, after a fashion. Maybe you are from the north."

"Yes, I am from the north of where I come from, but it is a different place than this."

"It must be far distant, then. There are red headed men among the Rohirrim, but they are rare, usually in the west, near Dunland."

"I am not from there."

Herb Emblem gestured for them to be quiet, for they were entering the swamp, following the trail of those who had taken the women.

For that matter, thought Raefindan, what of the name they've given me? Ray would be a shorter, easier handle. Suddenly, a lightning bolt of memory struck him. Not Ray, but Roy. That's my name: Roy. No wonder Raefindan felt so comfortable, as close as it is. Edwards! Ædegard would recognize it if I changed it just a little, to Ædewards. A second lightning bolt of realization hit him. Ædegard and I are of the same folk! But our speech is different. His is older. How do I know that? He saw himself in a large room, sitting at a chair with a single board at his right, which was attached to the chair. There was a lined sheet of paper on it, and he held a pen over it. I learned it in school!

His horse's hoof sunk into the mire up above its knees, and whinnied desperately. He tugged on the reins and the horse's head yanked to the right, the horse's feet followed, back to the narrow path.

"Raefindan!" Herb Emblem hissed angrily. "Watch the path!"

He nodded. "Sorry!"

[mark12_30]

***OOC: this goes after A&G's rescue and before the discovery that Argeleafa & Bella are taken.**

Erundil had been pursuing them on foot, and was now breathless and exhasperated. As they galloped up to him, Erundil called to Ravion. Ravion swerved, and stopped. "Take this horse! I will ride Gond." He leaped off Argeleafa's horse and handed the reins to Erundil, and swung towards Gond.

"You could have invited me to the party, " Erundil snorted.

"Not enough horses, " grinned Ravion. Erundil tried to cuff him but could not reach. They mounted hastily and galloped to catch the rest.

*************


Nethwador stared at the redhaired man a little, and at the darkhaired man a lot. Despite himself, he resented the order that Bella give up her horse to the redhaired man, who clearly did not know how to ride very well. And he wondered whether the darkhaired man knew Bella. They might be from the same tribe, he thought. Would the darkhaired man capture Bella's attention? Her affection?

Time enough to worry about that when she was found. His heart sank. How often would he have to choose between his loyalty to Amroth, and his love for her?

Teeth set and face clouded, he rode unnoticed behind Amroth, casting glances back towards the darkhaired man. Ravion rode with eyes straight ahead, and did not notice.


*****

Soft words passed between the two elves, heard only by their quick elf-ears.

"The trail holds fewer footprints than it did. We have lost some of them."

"I feared as much. Amroth does not know?"

"His mind is closed; ask him."

Taitheneb slowed, and spoke clearly. "My lord, the footprints are not as many as they were."

Amroth nodded. "Argeleafa is not with them. I have felt this. She is behind us."

"My lord, shall we split up?"

"No! That is his desire. We have split up too much already, and our two ladies are lost. 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."

Taitheneb and Erebemlin exchanged glances. "Who is it, that defies you, my lord?"

"He mocked me aboard ship-- mocked me and mocked my grief. He tries to hide from me, from us all. But betimes the outreach of his anger gives him away. The darkness of his heart spills beyond his grasp."

[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.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Nothingness.

Darkness enveloped her and squeezed tighter and tighter about her lungs. Bellyn panicked inwardly, her subconscious thoughts blazing in dreams and mindless wandering. Still her face and body remained relaxed as in sleep.

--

Her eyes fluttered open…or did they?

No…

She knew she was not awake. The scenery was too perfect for her to be awake. The grass shone magnificently with the dew of early morning, the colors of the sky and of the ground damp and dreary. Dream-Bellyn stood lonely on a cliff flanked by a thin veil of mist and a rocky ledge with a drop-off leading straight down into some churning sea. Sunlight proved sparing, and only the grey clouds gave company to the lone being on the cliff.

Dreaming? She wondered. Yes.

She could feel the warmth of a summer sun on her skin, but Bellyn did not see any sun. She could see the green grass beneath her feet, but Bellyn felt nothing holding her where she stood. It was a most awkward feeling, being there but being gone at the same time. Bellyn felt squished as if she were in a crowded tavern, but looking around she felt lonely as if she were the last person in Middle Earth. The sense of weightlessness washed over her mind; she wanted to cry for help, but no sound could escape.

The scenery changed, and suddenly Dream-Bellyn stood between two rocky ridges. The ravine was deep and dark, blackness mixed with greys and the brilliant warmth of sunlight had immediately left Bellyn. The paths on the left and right of her stretched onward into nowhere, seemingly infinite. Then a sound!

Crying? Again she wondered.

Walking off down the left path, she came to a small opening in the ravine-tunnel. Off to one side sat a woman with golden hair, pale as the early morning rays of a newborn sun. She curled up against the wall of rock with her arms around knees bent against her body. After Bellyn had watched her whimper, the woman looked up, startling Bellyn back a few steps. Her eyes burned like fading stars, stars that were once much brighter and happier.

Again the scenery changed. Dream-Bellyn sighed, wishing that someone…

Nethwador!

…wishing that someone might save her soon...

[mark12_30]

Taitheneb rode forward and spoke to Erebemlin and Amroth in a low voice. "My lords, Ædegard has ridden back along the trail."
Erebemlin's face showed nothing.
Amroth's face was also impassive, but he raised an eyebrow because Taitheneb clearly had more to say.

"The Raefindan wishes us to track and find him."

Amroth's answer was swift. "Nay! Nor shall he leave. We ride forward til we have found Bella. Taitheneb, take up the rear of the column!"

Nethwador watched Taitheneb ride to the rear with some concern, but was satisfied when the elf brought up the rear of the line. He met Amroth's eyes, and Amroth nodded at him.

"She is near, Nethwador. We will find her soon."

Nethwador frowned, unable to understand his words, and the king's mind was closed. But Amroth held his gaze til Nethwador was content. Nethwador glanced at Erebemlin next. The tall golden elf gazed at him with just a hint of warmth in his cool gaze. Nethwador watched him for a moment, and then returned his eyes to the king.

He misses Lady Bella too. He will not falter til we find both Bella and Argeleafa.

They pushed on. Amroth and Erebemlin were in the lead. Nethwador followed them, then Liornung, Erundil with Aeron riding behind him, and Ravion with Gwyllion. Raefindan and Taitheneb brought up the rear. The horses were exhausted, and all three elves were asking their mounts for their last remaining strength. The men could not ask, but the horses gave it nonetheless.

[littlemanpoet]

Raefindan

"We must stay together." Taitheneb's words were straightforward and simple. Raefindan appreciated that. Ædegard had taken his fate into his own hands, then. It was critical that those who remained together, stay that way. Very well. Raefindan would not stray from the purpose of the group. If he had been the leader, he would have said the same thing. He sighed.

Nevertheless, he could not set aside the feeling that something ought to be done. But how? Jorje nosed ahead of his horse among the bushes. What if he sent Jorje back? No, what could that do? Get Jorje lost. The dog was looking up at him. Raefindan smiled.

"Did you know that I was thinking of you?" he whispered. Jorje's tail wagged and his mouth opened in a big grin. He whispered again. "Would you go look for Ædegard if I asked you to?"

I would permit it.

Raefindan shook his head. Had Jorje put those words into his mind? No, that didn't make sense. He looked behind him and saw Tate Enid regarding him with look of amusement. That was you? He mouthed, pointing to his head, feeling idiotic. Tate Enid nodded.

Taitheneb.

Taitheneb. Ah. Apologies.

Accepted. The Elf smiled.

Raefindan smiled and turned frontwards again. Jorje was pacing by the side of his mount. "Jorje!" he whispered as loud as he dared. "Go find Ædegard!"

Jorje watched him as he paced next to him, seemingly spellbound. And not understanding what in Middle Earth Raefindan was talking about.

Try saying, "Tirril! Find Ædegard!"

Tirril? Jorje had stopped in his tracks and was watching Taitheneb with singular attention. Tirril. So the dog had two names. Jorje Tirril. He could pass for an Englishman. A what?

What is this Englishman?

I don't know. Something where I come from?

Tirril awaits your command.

Raefindan nodded. "Tirril! Find Ædegard!"

Jorje watched him for one second longer, then ran back down the trail as fast as though a juicy steak had been thrown that way. In moments he was out of sight.

Jorje Tirril

Red man used one of the words old Bargil had taught him! Find. But he didn't use it right. It didn't hold the aroo. He liked Red man's word that meant him, it was warm and friendly, but not aroo. The El man was different, hot and cold in the same place at once. He knew hot and cold nearby, when he put his nose to the riches that wafted, but this El man was nose and riches at once.

Tirril

The aroo! The El man knew aroo!

"Tirril! Find Ædegard!" said Red man.

Aroo! Tirril remembered the smell of the new man. Must find new man! The scent was not here, but Tirril knew it. It was back many pawprints. He would find new man. Tirril ran.

[Imladris]

Aeron glared at Raefindan and shook his head. Nobility....Raefindan spoke of it and had none of it. Ædegard had the nobility though, Aeron suspected, since he had gone after his beloved against all odds.

Aeron nodded. But no, Raefindan and the others (and it was a disappointment that this was coming from elves) considered him as a deserter...how was he a deserter? They were more concerned about sticking together instead of trying to rescue both women. Why? Wasn't that what nobility was? Dying for those you love?

Aeron shook his head.

[mark12_30]

Dead faces leered at her, rotting hands reached for her. Tentacles brushed her. Foul breath wafted against her face. Her stomach turned.

It was hard to breathe. So often it was hard to breathe... she gasped, coughing, fighting for air. Something struck her. She turned her face, gasping; still there was no air. Dead faces under the water wafted rotting, trailing flesh, and it stank; she gagged again and again.

Enough. Enough! She fought harder, scratching, kicking. The air still eluded her. Fog surrounded her; walls hemmed her in; a dungeon door closed, and she was underground, underwater, under the sucking mud. There was no air.

There was no air.

Her surroundings faded slowly 'til she knew no more.

[littlemanpoet]

Tharonwe

Taitheneb. Tharonwe had not heard of that Elf. He must be a young shoot out of Lorien, less than a thousand years, likely. The human boy, Ædegard, was a fish caught on his line, and the best they would do was send a dog to find him and bring him back. Tharonwe was best with sight and hearing and thought, not smell; but his servants had excellent noses. He commanded them to draw both human and dog away.

But that was apparently all the dividing of their forces that could be achieved. Tharonwe could not detect any threats laid down by Amroth and the other one, so it must be that they were followed by cowards whose fears overcame loyalty. At least this Ædegard was no coward. A Rohirrim. It would be a good death, so those folk said. It would be a shame that none of his folk would know of his fate; no song would be sung for his heroic death, just a mournful lament for his loss. Fair and well. It was time to call the servants holding the other two women back to him. Divide and conquer had been played out; now it was time for strength in numbers. He made his call.

Jorje Tirril

His paws ate up the trail as he nosed for signs of Ædegard's big one-toe dog. Jorje was used to them, his old waroo had had his very own, as had the rest of the pack. When waroo's days of smelling had come to an end, waroo's one toe dog had been given to a new pack member, and Tirril - for that had been his name then - had been claimed by the strange new waroo of the two legs. But the new waroo was mean. Tirril had run away, had scrounged for himself until red man. Red man was a good waroo, except that Tirril's name from red man had not been aroo. Jorje. He had tried to make it become aroo, but it was not second smell yet. Now it didn't need to anymore; red man now knew aroo, and Tirril was happy.

There was the one toe's scent. Tirril slowed and made sure to keep the scent. It kept to the main path. Woof! No! Tirril stopped. The scent was warmest just off to the side. Yes, there was another path this way. Not as well used. But Ædegard's one toe had gone this way. Tirril ran.

Tirril halted. A new scent. Human female and something else. The something else made him retch. It was foul, not rich like dung. This foulness was of a different kind of rot. But it was growing faint. Tirril ran on. Many paws later, Tirril saw Ædegard's one toe dog ahead, long before he smelled him. This swamp was so thick with odors that an animal scent was dampened. No two leg though. Tirril sniffed around. The one toe looked at Tirril and he snuffled and knickered. Tirril had heard his old two leg pack call it that. One toe was scared, had smelled and heard the foul things too. They sniffed noses. Stay together, Tirril snuffled.

The one toe followed Tirril as he ran down the path, nose to the mucky ground, hard after the scent of Ædegard. It was not right that Ædegard left his one toe behind. And it was not right that the man had passed by the female human smell, for Tirril knew hunting; Ædegard was hunting for the female human, and had lost the scent, which meant that Ædegard was lost. Tirril would have to find him. The big eye in the sky was only a few sniffs above the edge of the world. They ran on.

[mark12_30]

The company trotted wearily on, stumbling, heads occasionally nodding, into the Entwash. Raefindan glared, hating the place. The will of the elves dragged them onward.

Aeron fidgeted and glanced at Gwyllion...she looked tired.

"Are we going home?" she asked.

"No, of course not," said Aeron loftily. "We have to plod through this swamp, find this elf, and wait for Ædegard to meet his death." He threw a dirty look at the rangers and the elves.

Gwyllion blinked. "Oh...but I thought it was bad for us to split up."

"Well, considering that the party was already split up when Ædegard left, it doesn't make much difference does it?"

Taitheneb frowned, but waited. Perhaps the young man had concerns of his own; the world of men was so new and strange, and sad.

"I'm sure they have their reasons for not following that man," said Gwyllion with a yawn.

"Something about following orders, " muttered Ravion, but Aeron ignored him.

Gwyllion continued. "Do stop fretting about it...you're just a boy."

"And you're just a girl," Aeron said irately. Rolling his eyes, he said to nobody in particular, "Could Gwyllion and I have our own horse? Currently we're being tossed about as a piece of luggage...I suppose because we're rotten dirty little thieves..." Aeron was cut off by a soft growl from Erebemlin. “Swamps have ears, young fool."

Aeron rolled his eyes and hissed, "If Gwyll and I had our own horse I wouldn't need to shout."

Erundil said, "Gwyllion can take my place...I will replace her on Gond."

“Quickly,” said Erebemlin.

Aeron flashed a grin at the ranger as he lifted Gwyllion and settled her in front of Aeron.

"You are in such a black mood Aeron," Gwyllion whispered.

Far in the distance, two dark figures could be seen carrying a burden.

There was a shout from the Easterling boy. Erebemlin hushed him, but Amroth’s eyes burned. Echo wearily tossed his head, gave a weary grunt and stumbled forward. The horses rallied and gathered themselves, and followed Echo—all but Aeron’s mount.

Ravion turned around and shouted, "Hurry up Aeron -- it is not safe to lag!"

"We can't! The horse is too tired...we don't want to hurt him! We'll catch up to you when we catch up to you," Aeron shouted back.

“Nay,” shouted Taitheneb. “Take the girl aside to safety!”

Aeron grinned, his eyes sparking with delight. He wheeled his horse aside, and pulled the reigns tightly as he watched the group of men and elves gallop towards the dark figures...

"Why are you stopping?" asked Gwyllion.

"To make sure they forget about us and leave us far behind," said Aeron softly.

Gwyllion narrowed her eyes, and said, "What do you mean forget about us?" The horses charged into the distance, and Aeron was and Gwyllion were left alone. Aeron turned the horse.

“What are you doing?” Gwyllion asked.

"Listen Gwyllion," said Aeron shortly, urging his horse into a gallop following Ædegard's trail, "I'm tired of being around these 'noble' rangers who don't act nobly. I'm going after the man who ran off a little while back."

"He is a stranger to you," Gwyllion protested. "Why are you going after him?"

"Because it's dangerous in the swamps, Gwyllion," he snapped. "Besides, it's good form that he's going after his lady love."

[Imladris]

"You do realize that you are being a fool trying to track the man in the swamps?" Gwyllion remarked, stretching lazily.

Aeron sighed. She could be so difficult when she didn't want to do something. "I don't understand you," he said. "Why do you not want to split up? They haven't treated us well, Raefindan virtually left us in the hands of that vile merchant, and Ravion left us too -- allowing you to be captured by that swamp elf," he added in a fierce whisper.

"I happen to like Ravion and the others," said Gwyllion softly, turning around to smile at him. "I don't know why Raefindan let the merchant capture us, but I am greatful that the elven lords rescued us."

"Yet even they won't go after Agard...Idegard...whatever his name is!" Aeron snapped. "They say they don't want to be separated, yet they won't go after him and try to overtake him! They say he deserted when he merely wanted to rescue his lady love! How is that bad?"

Gwyllion's smile faded and she shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, Aeron," she whispered. "But they are elves...surely they know what to do?"

Aeron scoffed and looked towards the murky, green slimed ground. Yes...he could vaguely see the outline of a hoof. "We'll catch up to him," said Aeron easily. "And then we won't be alone in the swamps."

There was harsh, sharp whistle and a soft plopping noise. Aeron frowned, and glanced around. "What was that?" he whispered to Gwyllion.

She made no answer, but merely sagged forward, and would have fallen off the horse if Aeron hadn't grabbed her. A thin dart was buried in her skin -- a trickle of blood dribbled down her neck.

Aeron's heart stilled, and he jerked around. There was another whistle, a bite of pain. As his vision blurred, and clouded, Aeron saw black shapes ripple towards him. He tried to shout, tried to spur the horse forward, but his legs were dead -- or were they merely asleep?

A dark tentacle wrapped itself about his neck, dragging him into watered darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gwyllion

The grass was green, they sky clear of all clouds...why was she skipping, dancing over the lawn? Where was Aeron, where was the horse?

The birds sang sweetly -- it had been long since she had heard such singing. As she danced, she saw two women. One was huddled to the floor, oblivious to the the singing birds and the golden sunshine. Her golden hair fell wildly about her shoulders, tears stained her face, madness flushed her cheek.

Why would one cry in such a lovely place?

There was another lady who stood looking on...who was she?

Gwyllion stared at the other woman, she raised her head. Her face was pale, her cheeks were hollow, her eyes dark as they locked onto Gwyllion's.

Sad darkness poured into her, stained her memories with a dirge of tears, changed her eyes to see shapes of twilight, the grass was a weary path, birds sighed wistfully as a lady wept. "Does she not know that I miss my lover too?"

Gwyllion buried her face in her hands and wept -- wept for the strange lady who stood veiled in dying twilight, garbed in silent tears...

[littlemanpoet]

If you value the life of your sister and friend, you will stop where you are, and come no closer.

Raefindan heard the words in his head, as clear as if they had been spoken aloud, and he knew who spoke them.

"I know this voice!" said Amroth, harshly. "Tharonwe!" Amroth's lips tightened; Echo's head dropped, and the group halted. His and Erbemlin's eyes narrowed to suspicious slits.

So I am called by those who seek to besmirch my honor.

"You have none, skulker! 'Tis mere cowardice that prevents you from showing your face!"

Nay, 'tis wit. Do you think me a fool to stand before three Elves without defense? That would be no fair fight.

"The swamp elf," Raefindan said, looking all around him. He could not see the speaker at any distance. "Where is he?" Next moment, he saw in his mind, Mellonin, alive and awake - and bound and fearful. The swamp elf stood next to her, and there were foul looking, lank haired and diminutive humans in loin cloths, their teeth sharpened to points; they eyed Mellonin hungrily.

Amroth said nothing. Erebemlin spoke. "Release the captive." Amroth waited, his eyes cold and dark.

I do not think you are in any position to give me orders, Lorien Elf. Tharonwe raised a sharp knife to Mellonin's face. The little men licked their lips hungrily.

"You have never taken orders, faithless one. For that you shall answer, " said Erebemlin.

Beware your words, for the sake of this sister and friend. Thraonwe's knife inched closer to her face.

"To whom is this one sister?" asked Amroth.

"She is your sister," Ravion said with some vehemence. "Do you not know her?"

"She is no sister to me," Amroth replied dismissively.

"Your faces could be mirrors!" Ravion said, his voice rising.

In Raefindan's mind's eye, Tharonwe turned to Mellonin; tears ran down her face. Did you hear, my sweet, how he disowns you? Her eyes closed tight with the pain.

"The body you wear, lord," said Erbemlin.

Yes, Mellondu, young Gondorian blacksmith, you have been occupied in the same fashion that the former Dark Lord sought to occupy your homeland. Is your will your own, or are you at the mercy of your own dark lord?

[littlemanpoet]

Jorje Tirril and Ædegard's mount (whose given name was Brade) trotted down the path made by the human's footsteps. It curved hither and yon, but ever remained on solid ground. The man must have a good nose to keep his feet on such a sure trail. But if he did, he would have smelled the fouls and the woman, and he hadn't. So maybe something else kept him on the trail, something not aroo at all, but eerm instead. Jorje's hackles rose in fear. Something eermy lay ahead of them, and he had just begun to smell it. It was the foul retchy thing again, only a lot stronger.

He snuffled to Brade that they needed to hurry. It was a good thing that one toe's could really run when they had to. They ran. It was easy now to follow the scent, and Jorje retched as he ran, but run he did, retch or not.

It was colder and wetter here, and there was a building with dripping stone. It was dark here, even though one eye in the sky was still a sniff up. The man's feet went through that eermy, hackly door. Jorje went down on his belly and eermed, real quiet, he couldn't help it, the sound just came out of him because it was such an eermy place. But red man had sent him to find Ædegard, and he would find him, even in this eermy place. He crawled through the door. Brade stayed outside. Jorje couldn't blame him. Besides, Brade made too much noise, even in the mucky swamp.

There were foul eerms in the distance, and they snuffled to each other. Amid all the retchy smell, Jorje could smell the man. He sniffed, carefully, to smell what they were about. And his nose served him well: they smelled like they were ready to feed, and the only thing they had to feed on was the man! Jorje's hackles rose higher, in anger now. The man was pack! This eermy pack sought to eat his pack! He bared his fangs and growled low, and the sound that came out of him would have scared him if it had come from any other. They turned to him and made all kinds of strange noises, sort of like what red man's pack did, only their noises were all way back in the throat, as if they were trying to growl without a doggish throat. It was silly! They couldn't growl right! Jorje took courage and he dove, his mouth snapping every which way. He pounced and ran, snapping, snapping, until he came to Ædegard. Hands grasped at him and he snapped at them, and the hands drew back; he even got a finger of one of them, but the taste made him retch. He stopped snapping and yelling and growling long enough to lick Ædegard's face, and the man's eyes opened . . . at first just a little, then wide with alarm. He scrambled to his feet while Jorje yammered some more.

"Let's get out of here, Jorje!" said the man.

Jorje followed his packmate out of the stoney place, and Ædegard stopped dead before Brade, as if stunned. But only for a moment. He jumped on Brade's back, and called Jorje after him. Jorje ran after. He didn't need aroo from Ædegard, not for this. Off they ran amid the fog, the one eye in the sky just a sniff or so above the edge of the world. Jorje could hear the eermies running squishily after, but they were leaving them far behind. Jorje grinned as he ran, happy that he had done what Red man had asked.

[Imladris]

Hope was gone, hurled away as a vile thing in the wrath and sorrow of betrayal. Amroth would not come, and they were both separated. Nimrodel wept -- why could she not weep? Her tears were dry as she yearned for her beloved.

A golden cloud skipped, danced within her thoughts, glimmering as a silvan star in her blackness. An echo of laughter whispered tantalizing of innocent joy, fluttering out of reach. Yet, as the lamps of Varda are snuffed by darkness, as the mantled sky becomes burdened with grief, her sorrow tarnished the gilded cloud, dimming the glimmering of her light.

Mithrellas reached out and whispered, "My grief is not yours. Why do you weep?"

"For you..."

"I would know your name."

"'Tis no secret, Lady. I am called Gwyllion.

"You may call me Mithrellas."

[Orual]

Ravion's green eyes narrowed and he felt his face flush with rage. His left hand clenched and unclenched as his right hand fiddled with his sword hilt. Who was this boy to deny his sister? The grief on Mellonin's face, the tears running down her cheeks, the tightness that the abandonment of her brother brought to her shoulders...it tore at Ravion. He looked at the boy, whose seemed outwardly so much like Mellonin. Her handsome face, Ravion thought, sat ill on her brother. The grey eyes, so lively and earnest on Mellonin, seemed only cold without her spirit behind them.

"That he would deny her now!" Ravion whispered, terribly fixated on the image of Mellonin's grief-stricken face, unable to tear his thoughts from her. "That he is not moved! He must not be her brother indeed, but some imposter. Surely he could not stand to see his flesh and blood in such a state."

His right hand clenched the hilt of his sword. He felt like he ought to strike out at someone, to find some way, through steel, to ease Mellonin's pain. But strike at whom? The swamp elf? Even if he were to show himself, it would be madness, and more likely to get Mellonin injured than to help her. The boy? Irrational, and Mellonin may never forgive him if he hurt her brother. He released the hilt.

Would that it was I that she sought! Ravion tried to remove the thought from his mind and keep his focus on the present crisis. But it was a difficult battle.

[mark12_30]

Amroth did not move. He gazed straight ahead. Beside him, Erebemlin and Taitheneb sat like statues, listening to the king's mind.

I befriended her. I guarded her. I watched her. I wooed her. I received her troth-pledge. I have waited for her and sought for her, replied Amroth. What have you done? Have you treated her as you have treated this mortal girl? Poisoned her? Misled her, isolated her, lied to her, tormented her? I know that you have lied to me, and misled me; and now you have this woman at your mercy-- such as you have. Were I ever to consider releasing Nimrodel from our vow, should I yield her to one such as you? Should I allow her to consort with such poison?

Erebemlin could see the swamp-elf's face tighten, and the knuckles of his knife-hand turned white.

Amroth's thoughts turned to the girl. He could taste her fear, feel her tears. This is the respect that you show womankind? To bind them, threaten them, hold them at knifepoint? You threaten death to one who can be no threat to you. You have no mercy, no compassion, no conscience. I shall never yield to one such as you. And I will die a thousand more deaths before I yield my Nimrodel to you.

Taitheneb, listening, heard the girl weep; heard the Merlocks slavering. Surely Amroth would take some step to preserve the girl's life? He waited for some sign, some signal. He and Erebemlin tensed, ready for a joint assault on the mind of the swamp-elf.

Even if you silence the elf, those with him can hurt her. What are you thinking?

Erebemlin started; Taitheneb paled. Amroth's eyes had clouded, his gaze faltered. "My lord...?"

Amroth did not move. The elves' minds wavered.

He has never hurt Nimrodel; he will not hurt her now. Yield to him! Free my sister now.

Never hurt her? Mortal, does a thousand years of madness mean nothing to you? Can you not see death as a gift?

What, will you spend my sister's blood on this?

Would you have me spend the long ages of Nimrodel's life?

You are mad.

Had you seen the ages pass as I have, you would not think so.

As you cherish Nimrodel, I will risk no harm to my sister.

Silence.

Free my sister!

As he torments your sister, he has tormented Nimrodel for a thousand years. I say again, death is a gift.

Not one I want for my sister. Have him release her.

He asks too much.

Yield! Give him what he wants!

Never.

Yield to him!

No.

Beads of sweat formed on Amroth's brow, and Erebemlin watched wide-eyed. Taitheneb, with an effort, pushed back at the swamp-elf; but his will was fading. Amroth swayed, clutching at Echo's mane, and bowed over his horses' neck.

Ravion spurred forward. "Tell them to spare her!"

Erebemlin and Taitheneb turned, pulling at their king's mind, trying to gain a foothold for him and bring him back; but they met only Mellondu.

"Tell him to spare my sister, " said the blacksmith through clenched teeth.