Friends of Nimrodel: Tapestry of Dreams

[alaklondewen]

“My lord, I will aid you with any need you have.” Erebemlin did not understand Amroth’s insistent behavior. Was his word no longer adequate? “Please, come and rest. Taitheneb, bring us food suitable for a weary king.”

Taitheneb nodded and quickly descended the mellorn. His mind was swimming with what he had witnessed. How could that young mortal be the long departed King Amroth? Yet, the Silmaethor believed. Taitheneb landed on the forest floor and comforted the horses that awaited their young masters, before hurrying to gather the provisions Erebemlin wanted.

Meanwhile, Erebemlin turned his attention on the second boy, Amroth’s companion. The Sinda touched the boy’s mind and saw anxiety and fierce loyalty to Amroth. Do not fear. We will not harm you. The young boy relaxed slightly. Tell me your name, young one.

The boy remained silent, but Erebemlin saw his mind form the image of a pig. That is an animal. What is your name?

They call me pig, but he names me, Mellon.

You are a friend. That is well. Erebemlin knelt to look into the boy’s eyes. But you need a real name, Mellon. The Sinda thought for a moment while looking the boy over. You are of a wandering people, are you not? The young boy nodded and shared his family’s fate and his meeting and love for Amroth. “Neth-gwador, I shall call you…young brother. For you are brave and show strong loyalty and love for the King.”

The boy tried to wrap his tongue around the name, "Net-kwad-er."

Erebemlin smiled and touched the boy's shoulder. "Noble effort. Try it this way...Nethwador." The young mortal tried once more and procounced the name beautifully. "Very well, indeed. Now you shall never be known as an animal again."

[mark12_30]

Amroth looked on as Erebemlin turned his attention to Mellon, and resisted the urge to smile. A diversion. Mellon needed the acceptance, and Amroth waited.

So she is not here, he thought. And they have had no tidings of her in a thousand years... madness. He must seek other counsel.

And yet... Erebemlin was no fool, and he did not seem mad; only .... frightened.

"Erebemlin."

The elf seemed afraid to answer. "My lord." Slowly he turned to face Amroth.

"I shall open my mind to you, and you shall see what you will."

"My lord!" Erebemlin stared. "By your leave, no, my lord."

"You do not trust me even for this?"

Erebemlin stared down at the talan. This should have been a joyous reunion, he reflected; a time of song and tale, of tune and dance... his heart felt tied in a knot. "I do trust you, my lord."

"Then what is it you fear?"

Erebemlin's face twisted. "The darkness of your dreams, my lord; the fire, and the shadow. Whence came these, my lord? Whence came your sorrow and your despair? What did this past thousand years cost you? I fear what robbed you will rob me as well. And your strength of will may easily defeat mine."

"Erebemlin, I desire no such thing; I am not here for conquest, or rule or lands or anything else that these lands can give. I am here only for one purpose and that is to find my Nimrodel. Will you aid me? For if not, then I must find someone who will."

"I have told you, my lord, I will aid you in any way I can."

An impasse. Neither would give way, Amroth knew, and they were wasting precious time.

At that moment, Taitheneb and another elf arrived at the foot of the tree. They carried packs of food, the best Taitheneb could procure in haste. Taitheneb whistled a bird-song, Erebemlin whistled back and Taitheneb began to climb the ladder.

When a cloth was spread and the breads and fruits and venison placed on it, Amroth spoke. "Taitheneb, join us, and your companion as well."

"I did not bring food for five--"

"Come, sit." Erebemlin motioned Taitheneb to obey, and soon there were three elves and two mortals seated around the cloth. Amroth turned to Taitheneb. "Tell me, Ellon, what has come to pass in the time since the dwarves awoke the evil in Moria."

[Imladris]

With a sigh, Aeron turned away and meandered back to Gwyllion who straggled along at the end of the group. He saw Raefindan and Mellonin exchange a glance or two, but he did not care. It was that blasted ranger's fault that things got out of control. He should just learn to ignore Gwyllion's quirks like he had learned to. If she threw a fit, calm her down. Do not try to analyze her because that will not help anything. Aeron chuckled softly. He had tried to figure it out for fifteen years. Why did the ranger think he could do better?

Gwyllion trudged along besider him. Her feet dragged along the ground, leaving a broad in her wake. He sighed, and looked at the softly rolling grasslands around them. They were on a small path. Ravion had told them that it would lead them to some forest...what was it? Loth something. Why would a blacksmith go towards a forest? He shrugged. It did not matter. He and Gwyllion were as safe as could be...a good deal safer than in the town.

He looked at Gwyllion and said, "Are you still angry with me."

With turning her head, she said, "Yes."

"It was just a little cut...a mere scratch. It is probably not bleeding anymore." She was growing more sensitive if the blood still bothered her.

"It is not that," she whispered. "Well, it is in a way...but you made me hurt him."

"All you did was throw a pebble at him," he said. What was so wrong with that. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The ranger deserved it, anyway.

"Well, I think it was a bad idea," she snapped.

"You did not have to do it," Aeron countered.

She relapsed into silence. He could feel the barrier begin to grow...could feel it begin to bristle. Aeron frowned. Why was she doing this? He had not done anything...she was the one who had thrown the pebbles...she could have decided not to have done it...he shook his head. Already he had two enemies -- and one was the one he loved most. He shrugged. She would be over it by morning...hopefully. If not, he would win her back by being his likeable, adorable self. He smiled.

His stomach twisted and he called, "Are we going to stop for lunch or just keep marching all blasted day?" It was a hot day and he was hungry. He could feel a pain creep up the back of his neck and spread across his head.

Ravion, without looking at him, said, "No. Too much time was wasted earlier on to take a lunch break. "

Aeron gasped and was about to protest, when he saw the evil glare that Gwyllion shot at him. Well, if they did not want to eat, that was fine by him. They could all starve. Maybe it would serve to fuel a bit of animosity at the ranger.

He sighed, and looked around him. Grasslands stretched to the distance, a few treest dotted the area...not prospect of adventure. Was this how all adventures were? Trudging in the mild lands, waiting for something to jump out of the shadows and eat you? He grimaced. Adventures were boring. There was no way around that.

Ravion did hand out something like cram though, which Aeron thought was rather kind of him. The stuff was very unpleasant though and Aeron spat it out and quitely tossed it by the way side. Let the birds have it. He wondered if he should have just given it back to Ravion, but then he would have to listen to another lecture that day.

Twilight did not come swiftly enough for Aeron, and the boy was beginning to think that it had been detained by some malignant force. Finally, it did come with a rush (to make up for lost time, Aeron suspected) and Ravion ordered camp to be set. Aeron built the fire and collapsed in front of it.

Mellonin sat down beside him and stared into the flames. It was strange. She was just as passive as Gwyllion. Aeron thought she was worried about her brother. What kind of peson was her brother? Raising himself to one elbow, Aeron said, "Tell me about your brother." It felt strange, breaking the silence.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Bella watched, her eyes wide and gaping as Amroth went off into the distance. Her eyes grew wider still as Ædegard went off to follow suit.

“Why do things stray so?” Bella whimpered, dropping her shoulders and letting go of Argeleafa’s hand. Liornung sighed, watching Ædegard follow the tracks of Amroth and Mellon. Bella looked to the strange man. “There is no cause for concern, and naught of our business should become yours, lest you be caught up in a chase as we are.” Bella said to the man, her voice weak.

Argeleafa took to Bella’s side, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It is not good to lose hope when the road has darkened. We will still follow the road, even when it has become dark. Is it not so?” Argeleafa looked into the distance as she finished, watching Ædegard’s back.

“But Argeleafa, there is no road!” Bella scorned herself inwardly for speaking in such a way, but even so she still wondered how long the cycle of catching and staying and losing Amroth would continue. “There is no road!”

“Then no road for the darkness to fall on. So, there is still hope,” Liornung added, smiling but keeping his eyes on the distance between Ædegard and those left behind. “Come, ladies. We go to catch Ædegard, and then to find our dear friend Amroth…”

“And Mellon,” Argeleafa put in with a smile.

“Yes, and Mellon.” Bella agreed, hope renewed for a time as the group took off to catch their companions.

[mark12_30]

Mellonin cast a startled glance at Aeron, and considered his request. Tell me about your brother. She shifted to face him, rearranged her cloak around herself, and then said, “All right.” She sat in silence deciding what to tell.

Raefindan and Ravion were practicing archery at Ravion’s insistence.

“Don’t aim; just think about your release.”

“But it’s dark. What if I lose an arrow?”

“If you lose an arrow at this range you have worse problems. “

Mellonin smiled, and returned her attention to Aeron. “My brother… Well, you know he is a blacksmith. He does beautiful work, very detailed sometimes. He likes the details, and prides himself on creating beautiful things. He was learning his runes, and he puts them onto whatever he makes—even if he can only fit a few onto it. Whoever asks for the work, gets their initials in the piece. Sometimes he uses the Dwarf-runes and sometimes the Elf-runes.”

She could see by Aeron’s expression that she was boring him.

“He likes to sing old songs. He sings them all day while he works. He has a good voice, and he is fond of singing. Three nights before he disappeared, we were singing the Lay of Nimrodel together. He had worked for three days to memorize it. He was quite pleased with himself.”

“So, is he prideful?”

“Not that kind of pleased: more of a childish delight. Although I do think the romance appealed to him.”

“Romance?”

“Well, it is a love song, “ Mellonin laughed. “Have you never heard it?”

“No. Sing it for me.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Please.”

She smiled, and sang so softly that Raefindan and Ravion could not hear a word of it. Aeron listened, trying not to seem too interested, but he did like the song.

“So he likes old stories.”

“Oh, he is a dreamer. He wishes he could have lived back in Numenor, or Beleriand. He wishes he could have seen the Silmarils. He wishes he could have fought with Elendil and Isildur and Anarion, or gone sailing with Earendil.”

“Really, “ replied Aeron, who thought he recognized some of those names.

“In truth, “ laughed Mellonin, “his longing was to be an elf-friend, like King Elessar. He adores Queen Evenstar, and says that her beauty will be forever unmatched; he said once that even Luthien could not have been as beautiful as the Queen. His favorite story is the story of Tuor, who married Idril and became an immortal.”

“I’ve never seen the Queen, “ said Aeron, and then wished he hadn’t.

“What! Where were you at the feast this year?”

“Um, elsewhere,” he muttered.

“Have you never seen her going out to ride in the countryside, or bring gifts to the poor, or visit the sick?”

“No,” sighed Aeron.

Beside him Gwillion spoke up. “Clever theives avoid royalty."

Aeron pretended she hadn’t said anything.

“So,” said Mellonin, “Tell me about yourself.”

[Imladris]

Aeron listened while Mellonin told of her brother, of his love for runes and learning. He smirked. Pouring over old, weathered scrolls in the dim flickering candle light did not sound appealing.

But the song was lovely -- lilting like a river he thought. Amroth and Nimrodel...he shook his head, pondering the story in his head.

And his love for the queen...she was only an elf...Lady Evenstar...The first star was beginning to peek above the mountains. He studied it, wondering why anyone would be named after an evening star. The star was not beautiful...it was prick of light. No more. Still, how did an elf look? He had heard glowing reports of her beauty and now, despite himself, he was curious. He scowled. Drat Mellonin for bringing the queen up . He had never concerned himself with the queen before and now he wondered if the queen would have helped his family as she travelled about the country side.

"Clever thieves avoid royalty," Gwyllion said.

Aeron smiled at her, but the smile faded and was replaced with a puckered frown. She had not said it in a positive light -- almost as if she had wanted to go to the feast and to see the queen. But they had had such adventurous times together, stealing gems from under merchant's noses, richer than any peasant had ever been. Each jewel had been won with adventurous fervor in the game of cleverness. Gwyllion had always been content with their lot before, but ever since she met that horrid ranger she had been different.

"So tell me about yourself," Mellonin said.

Aeron leaned back and considered. What was there to tell? "My father fought in the War and mother died giving birth to Gwyllion and when she was twelve he went away," Aeron said, a cold smile on his face.

"But he will come back," Gwyllion said, nodding her head.

Aeron rolled his eyes and scowled at her delusions. "I have told you that he is not coming back."

"Yes, he will. He cannot hate his children," Gwyllion insisted. "I think he lost his way," she added. "Or he must have been detained."

"Yes, you are right, Gwyllion," Aeron snapped. "He was detained by a great black monster that festers in his heart and he will come back when we are asleep in the ground."

"Maybe he will conquer that monster and then come back to us," Gwyllion suggested.

Aeron shook his head. Either she was too dense to understand what he meant or she did not want to believe it. They had had this conversaton many times before and arguing about it now would not change her mind. Besides, he had already made her angry today and he did not want to risk a loud argument about the matter. Then Ravion would but in like and try to reason with them about how terrible it was argueing on the road and he would drone on and on about how they must stick together to make this trip as pleasant for Mellonin as possible. He glowered at the girl.

To break the awkward silence that had again settled on the group (broken only by soft instructions of Ravion and the whistle and twang of arrows), Aeron said, "I believe it was idiotic what Amroth did. He drowned himself for a woman -- a mere woman who is probably dead. Why else could she not meet him at the shores? It would have been better if he had enjoyed his immortal life instead of throwing it away."

[mark12_30]

Mellonin raised an eyebrow. "A mere woman." Giving Gwillion a nudge, she repeated "...a mere woman... Aeron, is that what you think of us?"

"Leave my sister out of this, " Aeron hissed.

Mellonin lowered her voice til he could barely hear it. "Indeed I will not. It is well known that the way a man treats his sister is the way he will treat his wife. And you risked your life-- at least, you risked rotting in a jail cell, by urging that we agree to have Gwillion along. You risked your future for your sister; therefore you would risk your future for a woman you loved. So you do not think Amroth was a fool. And that means you are lying to me, Aeron."

Aeron studied her in the firelight. She did not look angry. She acted as if she was merely stating a fact. Was she angry?

Why did he care?

[Imladris]

Aeron spat into the fire, listening with some degree of satisfaction to it hiss and splutter to its dissipating doom. Turning, he studied Mellonin and Gwyllion, watched the shadows dance across the cheeks. He had expected her to be angry, but the wrath he had expected had not come. She was stating a fact: that was all.

Gwyllion and Mellonin were mere women (that Gwyllion could be considered a woman Aeron doubted, but the point remained the same), just like he was a mere boy. "Why throw your life away for a woman if she be already dead?" he countered. "It is is silly to languish after a lost lover. It is deluding yourself into a false world that simply does not exist. What dead is dead." He shrugged his shoulders. "We all die, though elves have to be killed to do so. Why not face that fact with bravery instead of plunging yourself into the watery depths to drown yourself? It would not bring her back and he was a fool to believe that his death could bring her back. If he wanted to swim back to shore to make sure she was dead (the song seemed to think she was), then that was stupid diving in so far from shore. And it is silly to kill yourself to join a dead lover. There is a whole world out there to be explored and to be enjoyed," he said, gesturing with his arms. "As for saying that I did virtually the same thing with Gwyllion, in that you are mistaken," he added with a smug smile. "Gwyllion was alive when Nimrodel was not."

[Orual]

Ravion squinted at where he thought Raefindan's arrow had landed. He winced when he caught sight of the white feathers, and closed his eyes. Raefindan glanced at the Ranger worriedly.

"That bad?" Raefindan asked, sounding miserable.

"No, not that bad," Ravion said politically, "but let us simply say that in a battle, you would have either hit the enemy--" Raefindan brightened, "--or me."

The red-haired man's face fell, and he sighed. "I'm trying," he said. Off of Ravion's glance, he stammered, "Am...trying."

"It takes practice, and I am a fairly wretched teacher," Ravion said wearily. He went and retrieved the arrow, giving it back to Raefindan.

The stars were just beginning to come out, and Ravion tilted his head back to look at them. It was a lovely night. Why, then, did he feel so wretched?

Perhaps he had been too rough with Aeron. Maybe the girl was disturbed, and Aeron could not do anything about it. It was entirely possible. But what, then, was to be done about it? He truly could not allow Gwyllion to continue acting like this. If only there was something he could do about Gwyllion.

He glanced over his shoulder, and saw the rest of his party. It was odd to think of it as "his" party, but that was what he had been calling them in his head. Raefindan, Mellonin, Aeron, and Gwyllion...and him. The Company. The Fellowship, even. And if it was his company, he was responsible. Right?

"Ravion?" The Ranger heard Raefindan's voice and turned. "How was that?"

Ravion turned and looked at the tree where he had affixed the mark that Raefindan was to hit. The arrow was about three inches above it.

"Much better," he said quietly. "Great."

[Orual]

This was definitely not the way it was supposed to happen.

Suddenly everyone was riding away. He still did not have any information. This was most certainly not the way he had planned it.

"There is no cause for concern, and naught of our business should become yours, lest you be caught up in a chase as we are."

Caught up in a chase. Erundil whistled and his bay cantered upto him. The Ranger swung on, then started off to catch up to the blacksmith's friends.

[mark12_30]

Raefindan, Mellonin, and Ravion planned watches for the night, despite Aeron's bemusement. The starry night passed peacefully, although Raefindan woke Ravion twice to point out something he thought suspicious. One movement turned out to be a fox hunting field mice. The second turned out to be an owl sitting in a low branch just over a hill.

Raefindan apologised.

"I would rather you wake me seven times too many than once too few, " said Ravion as he lay back down the second time.

Raefindan was glad the darkness hid his crimson face.

Ravion had the last watch and woke everyone before sunrise. He nudged Raefindan first, bidding him hold Jorje while he woke the rest. Breakfast was uneventful, packing was swift and he was content with their progress; at noon, they stopped under an elm tree overlooking the river, loosened Gond's pack harness, let him graze, and sat down for lunch.

Mellonin burrowed into her pack, and took out the pen and ink and parchment, and wrote for a while. Ravion was bemused, Raefindan spoke words of kindness and courage. Aeron and Gwyllion paid her no heed.

[Imladris]

"They camped here, my lord," said the man with the aquiline nose as he stooped over the ashes of a fire. "Though I have no ranger's skill, it appears they have but one horse among them, which means they will be walking."

The merchant nodded, and broke into a grim smile. As the servant heaved himself to his horse, he said, "We will have the boy by noon, no?" The servant nodded and kicked his horse in the ribs. The horses cantered across the narrow path, the thud of their hooves echoing dimly in the shallow dales.

They would slow their horses and trot them every few hours, every once in a while slowing them into a walk. "I love my horses," the merchant said, touching his black horse's neck, and rubbing it. "I do not want them injured or to become lame. The boy is not worth the price."

"I would have thought the necklace would have been though," the servant said.

The merchant sighed, persed his lips and said, "But no horses can replace this one."

Near noon they came to a river and the merchant saw a group of people underneath an elm tree. There were two men, a boy, and two young women. The boy was skipping pebbles on the river, a few feet from the main group. He was strong and wiry, and had an air of cocky confidence about him. "There is the boy," the merchant whispered.

The boy turned, saw them, and with a shout dashed away, following the river upstream. Driving his heels into his stallion's ribs, the merchant thundered after the the boy. The horse quickly gained upon Aeron, who swerved away and began to splash through the shallows of the river. With a grunt, the merchant hurled himself from the back of his horse and barrelled into Aeron, knocking into the river.

By now, the party under the elm tree had sprinted foward and the servant had dashed between him and the merchant, a short dagger drawn. The merchant, twisting Aeron's arm behind his back said, "I want to know why you took a known thief under your wing...and I want weregild for the merry goose chase you have led me."

[mark12_30]

Mellonin quietly stowed her pen, ink bottle, and parchment, and drew her dagger. Raefindan nocked an arrow. Gwyllion was strangely silent. Mellonin glanced at her, and decided to stay close to her. Raefindan stood so that he could see both Ravion and the two strangers. At this close range, he hoped that he could injure the stranger long enough for Ravion to dispatch the other one and then come and finish this stranger off.

If Raefindan's arrow missed the stranger, it would find the sky, the horse.. or the boy.

[mark12_30]

Mellon watched as the cloth was spread and the food was placed. He was not forgotten. Amroth's thoughts touched his, and he knew to sit and wait.

Nethwador. He thought, I am a young brother now-- the brother of a king.

Amroth was a good king, who kept Mellon-- Nethwador-- out of trouble. Being out of trouble was better. He hadn't been hit since he joined Amroth, and he didn't think he had been hunted.

Then Nethwador smiled. Mabe lady Bella was looking for him. Amroth said she might. He hoped lady Bella would find them soon. If not, he decided, he would ask Amroth to help him look for her. She could not have gone far.

At the foot of the tree, his chestnut neighed, and Nethwador looked up, stood, and went to the edge. Far below, two elves were caring for the horses. He returned to the food. Amroth broke a peice of bread, and gave him half.

Whether he would help him find fair Bella or not, he was a good king.

[Imladris]

Aeron struggled in the merchant's grip trying to escape. The merchant was strong and his hand clenched on his wrist, twisting his arm behind his body, pinning his arm to his back. Aeron writhed in pain, and crumpled to his knees. How had they caught up to him? He saw that the rest of the group had reached the merchant. Raefindan's bow was drawn and Aeron fleetingly wondered if he could hit anything with it. Gwyllion was there: her face white, and he could hear her short gasps for breath. Do not go into another fit....please do not go into another fit... Mellonin held a dagger in her hand and Ravion stared impassibely at the merchant and his bird like servant.

"I want to know why you took a known thief under your wing...and I want weregild for the merry goose chase you have led me."

Aeron gasped as he realized that the ranger would understand that the precious necklace belonged to these merchants. Fear swelled within him as he looked at Ravion. In one fell swoop, all the ranger's troubles would be gone. All he had to do was hand him over, along with Gwyllion, and then there would be no more fits to deal with, no more pebbles being thrown behind his back, no more obnoxious, mock duals to watch.

[Orual]

The day had started well. Everyone had risen early and they had made good time packing up, and now they were setting a good pace for the day. But Ravion knew in his gut that it would not last.

So he was not surprised when he heard horses in the distance while they were taking a rest. He stiffened and turned, and saw two men on horseback pursuing them. Who would be following them? And, more importantly, why? Was this Mellonin's brother?

Aeron gave a cry and darted off. The men were closing in on him fast, and though Ravion started off quickly and kept at a good speed, he did not reach them before they caught Aeron. One of the men, a merchant by appearances, tackled the boy and twisted his arm up his back. Aeron gasped in pain and fell to his knees.

"I want to know why you took a known thief under your wing...and I want weregild for the merry goose chase you have led me," the assailant demanded. He gave Aeron's arm another jerk for good measure, and Ravion, pulling out his sword, felt anger flare up in him. Why? Surely this was the merchant from whom Aeron had stolen the necklace. Where had his Ranger's sense of justice gone?

"You will have neither explanation nor compensation, coming at us with this hostility," Ravion retorted. "Approach us with civility and we may answer you. But for now, unhand the boy, for he is in my service and under my protection."

"He is a thief, and deserving of no one's protection," the man replied. Aeron looked up at Ravion, panic in his eyes. Ravion looked back impassively.

The man spoke truthfully. Aeron had stolen from him, and by rights should be in jail. Perhaps he deserved only what he was getting now. But the boy's eyes bored into Ravion's. He was down on his knees, gasping still, orphaned and alone and caring for his distracted sister. The merchant still had his arm in a vice-like grip and glared at Ravion, hardly even noticing the pain he was inflicting on the young boy. Whose offense was greater? Whose guilt weighed more?

"Deserving or no, he has my protection," Ravion shouted. He avoided Aeron's eyes. "I say again, unhand him, or I shall use whatever force is necessary to make you do so."

[alaklondewen]

Taitheneb looked curiously at the Lord Amroth for several moments before speaking. “My lord, so much has happened.” Did Amroth really want him to recount the last millennia? Looking to Erebemlin, Taitheneb pleaded for assistance.

Erebemlin sipped the light wine that was brought for the meal, and then spoke quickly to come to the younger elf’s aid. “Lord Amroth, many important events have occurred throughout these past years.” The Sinda paused to collect his thoughts and watched Amroth break bread with Nethwador. “Evil regained control of Mordor, and the Sauron grew strong.”

“This is ill news indeed,” Amroth’s young mortal face became sober and he furrowed his brows.

“Do not be concerned, my lord, for the One Ring was found.” Amroth raised his eyebrows, and Erebemlin continued. “It was destroyed and the Dark Lord with it.” Erebemlin lowered his eyes a moment and spoke softly. “That is the reason our forest has lost much of what it once was.”

Silence filled the talan, except for the noise of Nethwador’s chewing. The elven folk sat in their memories of the once glorious Caras Galadhon and the Lady Galadriel.

[Nurumaiel]

Argeleafa followed closely behind Liornung, feeling a bit bewildered at the happenings. She felt it odd that the stranger should receive such a reception as he had. It was not the way her family had done it. A stranger would have been welcomed, invited to sit and eat and share in the warmth of the fire. It was indeed strange how they had drawn weapons and been threatening. And now when they were sure the stranger would not harm them they rode away without a kind greeting nor a farewell! Yet it was most probable that life in the wild was much different. Safety ruled over courtesy, or so it seemed.

The girl cast a glance over her shoulder and was more than a little surprised to see the stranger following them. If she had been disregarded in such a manner so would not waste more time on useless pursuits. It could be, however, that he was not seeking them to make their acquaintance but to find information. He had introduced himself as a Ranger, after all. Tilting her head to one side, she decided that life in the wild was most definitely odd... so odd it was amusing. A little smile pulled at the corners of her lips and a dimple appeared on her right cheek. Attempting to smother the smile, she rode up alongside Liornung. He turned to her in a distracted manner. "Liornung," she said, "might I ride by the Ranger and learn what he would have with us? It seemed to me that we were a bit uncourteous in riding away in such a manner."

Liornung groaned softly, a shadow crossing his face. Bowing his head, he shook it gently and gestured to Argeleafa. "By all means do so," he said. "I will sit in misery, remembering the days when I never forgot common courtesies as now I ride away without at least a kindly smile. I fear my friends will not know me when I return, so rough and impolite will I be."

Argeleafa thanked him for his permission, then slowed her horse until the Ranger caught up. She rode by him, and he eyed her carefully, perhaps wondering what she wished of him. Now that she was in the situation, she did not know what it was that she wanted of him. She had hoped he would speak first. Yet he remained silent. "Good day, sir," she said, and paused. It was not a very intelligent thing to say, but perhaps it would prompt him to speak.

"And to you," he replied shortly, though not unkindly. There was another silence, but just as Argeleafa was beginning to wonder if it wouldn't be better to go back to Liornung, he spoke again. "Are you of the wayfarers?" he questioned.

"I am," she replied, "and then I am not. My father took my mother and me to join them just five weeks ago, but Liornung did not wish me to be with them. In truth I did not enjoy it myself."

"Which one is Liornung?"

Argeleafa pointed him out, and the Ranger nodded. Again the silence came, and this time he did not break it. The lass wondered if she were annoying him, and again considered going back to Liornung. Yet neither he nor Bella seemed interested in anything but going after Amroth... And she was confused. She did not know why Amroth was so important, but knew only that she was homesick. She wanted someone to smile at her. It seemed so long since she had received a smile from anyone, despite all her smiles. Turning to the Ranger, she caught his eye the only way she knew how. She gazed steadily at him until he glanced at her again, and then, realizing that she was looking right him, did not avert his eyes. When she was certain he was looking right at her, she smiled, the dimple appearing in her right cheek and her eyes shining in a friendly fashion. Perhaps he would smile back, or perhaps she would only receive the cold, surprised look that she received from the wayfarers, as if it were a horrific thing that she was actually smiling. Yet the Ranger was not a wayfarer, and she was used to seeing no returning smile. However it would be lovely to see one this time....

[Imladris]

"I will not let this boy go unpunished!" the Merchant shouted, jerking Aeron's arm again. "He has made quite a name for himself in various Gondorians cities! Have you seen their hovel? Can you even imagine the wealth that lies hidden within it? I would not be surprised if this lad was as rich as I am!"

"I said to let him go," Ravion said, a flicker sparking in his eyes. "I do not want to fight you."

"So, a ranger --" the merchant sneered the word --"is protecting a known criminal and depriving me justice?"

"You can have the necklace back," said Ravion, reaching into his pocket and tossing it to the merchant's feet. The merchant did not spare a glance for it and spat, "I want justice! I want to see this boy punished so that he will never steal again! What? Did you think you could change him with your noble manners? Look at him," he said, jerking his arm again. "Do you think he will change?"

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

Gwyllion struggled for breath, but it did not come to her. The Bad Man was going to take her brother away from her, put him a jail. He was hurting him...why did he not stop? Could he not see that he was hurting him badly? So very badly...she closed her eyes. She could feel herself begin to tremble.

Aeron screamed and her eyes snapped open. He was doubled over now, his face white. Ravion drew his sword, but Gwyllion leaped forward and plowed into him, entwining her arms around his neck and squeezing. "Let him go!" she shouted, as the merchant thrashed in the water.

[mark12_30]

Amroth pondered, and studied Erebemlin. There was no madness there, and no lie.

The One Ring had been found, and destroyed. The three must be waning, then. And the silence of the forest--

"The forest is silent. Few voices speak here."

"Alas, my lord, few indeed."

"Where have they gone?"

"They have sailed, my lord."

"But ours was the last ship. Impossible; they built a whole fleet of new ships in just two months--"

Erebemlin and Taitheneb exchanged glances. "A thousand years, my lord. There was time for much ship-building."

Amroth shifted, puttig his bread down half-eaten. A thousand years. Two months, a thousand years. He shook his head, and ran both his hands through his hair. A thousand years... just last fall.

"My lord, there is more I do not fathom, " said Erebemlin. "You say you remember the storm and your leap into the foam as if it were just this fall. But the body you now wear is no younger than fifteen years of age; do you not remember the days and seasons since your rebirth? Whose house did you grow up in? What new mother were you born to? And why were you reborn into a mannish body?"

Amroth's eyes went glassy. "Mannish? Erebemlin, you puzzle me."

Fear returned to Erebemlin's eyes. "My lord, surely you understand you no longer wear an immortal body. Have you not seen your face in the water?"

"The streams of Rohan rush in rocky shallows, " Amroth replied, dismissing the idea. "Where were the ships built? There was no building in Edhellond."

Taitheneb said, "The grey fleet was crafted in Mithlond, my lord. To the West, and not to the south."

Amroth looked up, sudden fire in his eyes. "Does she dwell westward, then? Does my road lie to Mithlond?"

"If she did, my Lord, she would have found a ship--"

"No, " Amroth snapped. "She is not in the west. Of that I am certain."

[mark12_30]

Taitheneb looked from Amroth to Erebemlin. In a thousand years, why would not the maiden have found her way to the havens? Why could Amroth not see the obvious?

Including his own young, mannish body... A flush remained on his cheeks, his breathing was not restful, his heartbeat pounded in the veins on his neck. The wild boy did not look so. Taitheneb studied Nethwador; he was smudged and tattered, but his breathing was steady and quiet, his heartbeat restful. Taitheneb frowned, and bent his thoughts toward Erebemlin.

They say that Feanor's spirit was so hot that the flame of it consumed his body when he died.

Erebemlin started, looked at Amroth as if seeing him for the first time, and spoke urgently. "My lord, the body that you wear is not strong. It is weary. It is tired and weary as if... as if by many mannish years."

"My lord, your body is ill. It is sick, " said Taitheneb, who better understood the world of men.

This, Amroth cound not deny. "I am weary. I have often been so this past month," he confessed. "I have never slept so much. Only yesterday, I slept all day."

There was silence, again broken only by Nethwador's munching. He had finished his second half-loaf, and washed it down with wine and fruit. Taitheneb silently gave him another half-loaf.

"My lord, you must do what sick men do until they become strong," said Erebemlin.

Amroth's eyes glazed.

"Rest. You must rest, " said Taitheneb. Reaching for Amroth's shoulder, he touched his thoughts with peace and hope. "Sleep now."

"There is no time, " Amroth said.

"Sleep, my lord. There will be time enough." Tenderly sweeping aside Amroth's worries and fears, Taitheneb flooded his mind with peace, and to his own surprise, Amroth surrendered. He leaned into Taitheneb's hand, and Taitheneb guided him gently onto the floor of the Talan. His breath quieted. Taitheneb placed a hand on his brow, and waited.

A wide-eyed Erebemlin held his breath, but the king had fallen deep into a dreamless sleep.

Erebemlin gave Taitheneb an exhasperated glance.

Taitheneb returned a wry smile. "Did you never lullabye a child?"

Nethwador refilled his wine glass, and took another cake of raisins, munching contentedly as his master slept.

[littlemanpoet]

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

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

He missed the songs.

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

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

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

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

"None save his trail."

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

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

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

[littlemanpoet]

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

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

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

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

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

The man at arms looked questioningly to the merchant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Orual]

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

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

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

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

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

[Orual]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mark12_30]

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

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

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

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

What a puzzling man.

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

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

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

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

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

"You jest," spat the merchant.

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

"What--" said the merchant.

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

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

[Imladris]

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

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

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

[Orual]

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

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

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

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

"What would your fellow Rangers think?

"What would your father think?"

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

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

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

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

[alaklondewen]

Celegtâl and Caranduin had toiled most of the morning with the removal of the orc remains, and they now walked with lighter hearts enjoying the warmth of the sun on their faces. Their golden hair glistened with the light and danced with the wind. As they spoke their voices carried on the wind resembling a clear melody played on two flutes in harmony.

“I do wonder where Taitheneb has taken himself,” Caranduin thought aloud as the pair strolled along the southern border of the forest.

“Wherever he went, he managed to escape the morning’s work.” Celegtâl had a noticeable edge to his voice. “He should perform two of our nightly watches…each.”

Caranduin smiled but did not reply. He was all too familiar with Celegtâl’s fiery impatience, and he did not wish to encourage the young ellon. “Do you hear that, Mellon?” Celegtâl halted and turned an ear to the south, while Caranduin knelt near to the ground. “They are hoof beats, no?”

“Yes, six horses.”

“Are you sure? I am unable to tell by their sound. Certainly more than one travels our way.” Caranduin stayed lowered not looking to the horizon.

“Yes, I am sure. Stand up and have look for yourself, if you do not believe me.” The younger elf peered into the distance, shading his eyes from the sun’s glare. Caranduin rose and joined him. Sure enough, six horses with five riders rode toward them.

The pair waited silently as the group neared. Once they were a hundred yards or so from the forest, Caranduin climbed to one of the outposts on the border, while Celegtâl stood firmly in their path.

"Halt! Come no nearer. This realm may not be traveled without leave. Name yourselves!" Celegtâl cried. The group was a curious one. They seemed to be a mismatched company of mortals.

Caranduin fitted his arrow to his bow and aimed for the man that rode in front beside a young girl with a thoughtful face.

[Imladris]

"That I did not injure him is unfortunate," said the Merchant, casting a glance at Aeron, who was cradling his arm. The brat sister who had sprung upon was also beside him, her arms draped about his shoulders. He rolled his eyes.

Ravion frowned and said, "That is indeed unkind and unjust."

"If his arm was injured, he might learn not to use it for unlawful things," said the merchant, easing himself beside the fire. "Since you are loathe to part with the boy for some unknown reason, what will you do for me?"

He stared into the ranger's eyes, wondering why he was protecting the boy, why he would want to protect a thieving vagrant. A chuckle escaped him: the ranger would know his mistake when the lad would rob him blind and then escape with the sister.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

"Bellagard! Ædegyn! Argendil and Erunleaf!" Bella cried in great haste, not wanting to try the patience of whoever wanted to know their names. Bella fumbled with the names, and when they came out of her mouth jumbled and mixed up, she smacked her palm to her forehead.

"Ah, those are strange names, miss!" Bella could not tell with what disposition the questioner spoke, and this made her even more nervous as she stood next to Ædegard. Argeleafa and Erundil proceeded towards their two companions cautiously and slowly. The inquiries continued. "On what business do you travel? What brings you to this place?"

"We're looking for Melloth and Amron!" Bellyn had planned on letting Ædegard handle whatever questions came next, but the mis-matched names tumbled out with her voice. Why am I so nervous? Bellyn wondered, blaming the fact that the interrogater held a bow aimed for Ædegard's chest. "I mean...we are searching for two of our former companions, who came by this way. We mean no harm or hostility!"

[Nurumaiel]

Liornung's face twitched a little and a faint smile came to his lips as he heard Bellyn's confused words. And then... she had forgotten to name him, even in a confused, mixed way. But it was of no matter. He had been forgotten before this, and he would be forgotten again. And Bellyn had been confused, and quite capable of forgetting any of the company. It was of no matter.

He moved slowly closer to her, aware that an arrow could bring swift and unavoidable death. Leaning slightly towards her, he patted her hand gently, feeling very much like an old man comforting a little girl. He had always seemed older than he was. No reckless, thoughtless, daring actions, but always careful consideration. But if it were the lot of the young man's life to play an old man, he would at least do it ably. "Hush, Bella-lass," he said, "and let Ædegard speak with them. He will know what to say."

At least there was Ædegard. That man was also young, but wise beyond his years. It would be thought in such a company of young people there would be much confusion over what to do, much jest, and more dancing and singing than work. If they were wise it was not a bad thing. Yet it was odd, for Liornung had always felt young before. What was it about this journey that made him older? It would not be a terrible day when he returned to the inn and saw Good Secgrof again, and the innkeeper, and his daughter Blostma. She would find some way to make him a young man again, surely she would. Or at least he could be hoped. And he would go on no more adventures like this but merely sit by that fire and tell tales. It would be pleasant to always sit by that fire and not wander anymore. Yet it was merely a passing fancy. This was no gentle wandering to play music for whoever would listen, it was more difficult, more frightening. When he recovered for it he would travel again. But for awhile it would be good to just sit by that fire and tell of all the people he had encountered.

He paused in his thoughts, in his memories and his anticipation of the future, and made himself realize that he was in neither the past nor the future, but in the present, and he was encountering more people. And these people... A tingling feeling came over him and he suddenly felt immensely shy, and a wonder came over him. He did not think any longer of the bows, but of those who held them. Awe filled him as he realized fully what had only been a dim thought before... North they had ridden from Edoras, for Amroth was seeking his love Nimrodel. He had been riding towards his people, towards a Wood that was not Fangorn. The wonder grew in him and rendered him speechless.

[alaklondewen]

Celegtâl wondered at the strangeness that the young woman would answer for the group, while the males stood behind and said nothing. “We have seen no mortals this morning. Neither an Amron nor a Melloth.” The elf stood firm, even though he could sense the good nature in the young woman. The trio of men worried him more. What kind of men were these to let a woman speak for them, and why were they not stepping forward to honor and distinguish themselves?

Celegtâl looked over their faces trying to discern the intentions that lie there. Worry, awe, embarrassment, disappointment…these were the expressions they wore. A mottled group they were indeed.

[mark12_30]

Sipping her tea, Mellonin kept one eye on Gwillion and the other eye on the merchant's henchman. Beside her Raefindan shivered, and she was sorely tempted to give him her cloak. However she had already noticed the henchman's eye on Gwillion.

Keeping one eye on the henchman and one hand near her dagger, she stood, walked over to Gond and fetched two blankets. One she handed to Raefindan. The other she draped over (and around) Gwillion and Aeron both. She glared steely-eyed at the henchman, and in her deepest voice she growled at Gwyllion. "Here, lass, mind you stay well wrapped."

Aeron's eyes sparkled, but he responded stone-faced. "Thank you, my lord Fingon." Gwyllion managed a shy, grateful smile. Her shivering masked her giggle.

The merchant's eyebrows went up. "Lord Fingon?"

Mellonin gave him what she hoped was a lordly, warlike glance of disdain.

The merchant frowned. "I do not remember any lord in Gondor by that name."

The henchman spat. "Hasn't been noble very long by the callouses on his hands. Looks like a girl. Walks like one, too."

Relying once again on the manly glance of disdain, Mellonin-- Lord Fingon, she reminded herself-- hoped that someone might change the subject.

[littlemanpoet]

"My lords," Ædegard said, taking Liornung's cue, "the lass Bellyn is not used to arrows aimed at her while she greets you. Pray, forgive her, and my lapse for not speaking sooner. I am Ædegard of Edoras, this is Liornung also of Edoras, the lady Bellyn is from Rohan's friend Gondor. This is Argeleafa of Rohan, and Erundil, a ranger. We were with Amroth, who is also called Mellon, until early this morning. He is ill and we need to find him to give him what aid we may. If you have seen him, we beseech you to show us the way to him, the sooner we may aid him."

The arrow lowered. "The one you speak of has not been seen in these woods in a thousand years. How do you know of him?"

Ædegard swallowed hard. The arrows were pointed at him now. "As I said, sirs, he is ill. Ill of mind, maybe. He is a blacksmith of Gondor, yet thinks himself Amroth, and behaves as Amroth. We fear for his safety."

"Well you might, Ædegard of Rohan. Stay where you are and we shall come down to you. We have more questions for you, but they may be asked in more friendly fashion."

Ædegard wondered where these words, issuing from his mouth, came from. He was a lowly wheelwright, unlearned in letters, knowing only the basest runes. Yet when the words were needed, they came. Ædegard decided that he had much to think about, when he got the chance.

[littlemanpoet]

Mellonin had made a brave attempt at acting the lordly man, but needed practice. Raefindan decided that he would have to work with her on that.... somehow, which was amusing, since he was no lord himself; but he had read books .... what books? He couldn't remember, but certain rather important points came to mind right now that he could use to deflect attention from Mellonin. Hmmm.... deflect? What does "to flect" mean? he allowed himself to wonder for the briefest moment.

"Mister Merchant man, sir-" The merchant's face screwed up as he turned to him, watching Raefindan as if he was a lunatic (lunatic - he meant 'crazy', but how did that work? an insane tick?). "-or whatever you name yourself. I have a question for you. If you were to take Aeron back with you, would you have him bound over to trial? And if so, would it be trial by ordeal? Would you have the nearest lord order that his hand be submer- I mean dunked - in boiling water, to see if it would boil?" Raefindan glanced at Aeron, whose eyes were getting larger and more fearstricken with each question Raefindan put to the man. Or would you have him tried based on evidence?"

"Evidens?" replied the merchant. "What is this evidens? Thick evening? You make no sense, man. What mean you?"

"Proof. Would you prove before a judge that this lad is your thief? I would hear your answer." Raefindan was stalling for time, hoping that Ravion or Mellonin could think of something to do, whether it be bludgeoning these blokes from behind, or putting a sleep draft in their drinks, or just running away. He feared that he was only making things worse, however. He eyed them both but they stared at him mutely, as if they were just as confounded by his talk as the merchant.

[Orual]

Ravion kept his face impassive, but glanced from Aeron to Gwyllion to Mellonin in confusion. "Lord Fingon"? Was that spontaneous, or had it been planned? Either way, it presented him with both an opportunity and a challenge. Could he really play it off that Mellonin was a noble...and a lord rather than a lady at that? He gathered his wits about him and plunged in to the game.

"Would you prove before a judge that this lad is your thief?"

Inspiration hit Ravion like one of Raefindan's better-aimed arrows. "My lord!" he exclaimed. Mellonin turned to him, surprised. "My lord, with the authority granted to you by his Majesty the King Elessar, you could pass judgment on our...predicament."

He turned to the merchant. "Surely you would accept the judgment of a Lord of Gondor, would you not?"

The way the Ranger phrased it, the merchant could hardly disagree. "Of course."

Almost gleeful in his pride, Ravion turned back to Mellonin. "My lord, who has the greater claim to Aeron's services? Myself, or the merchant?"

[mark12_30]

Mellonin drew herselkf up to her fill five-foot-nine height, and cleared her throat with as much rumble as she could muster. Then she sipped her tea as regally as she could while perusing Aeron's face. Thankfully, the lad was staring at the ground for fear of smirking.

She could do this. She and her brother used to make a game of imitating the master of the house. She closed her eyes, and quickly ran a verse of a noble song through her head. Then she opened her eyes, and turned to Raefindan.

"You call for proof that this boy is the thief of the necklace, and I deem this a wise question."

Raefindan stood, eyes sparkling, but he managed not to smile, or to hide the smile with chattering teeth. "Yes, lord."

"You also ask about the choice of the boy's punishment; to boil his hand rather than break his arm?"

Raefindan's jaw dropped. "My lord, such methods would not be my choice."

"Ah. And what would you choose for him as punishment?"

"Rehabilitation, my lord!"

Mellonin could not bite back the laugh that escaped her, but she ended it as gutterally as she could. Raising one hand (and then lowering it lest her callouses draw more attention) she said, "In the Common Speech, please, my friend."

Raefindan smiled, and shivered harder to hide it. "Training and practice in good deeds, under the guidance of a strong hand."

"Ah. Then you would have the boy-- for boy he is-- taught to do right."

Raefindan nodded. "Yes, my lord."

The merchant shifted, displeased already.

Lord Fingon turned to the merchant. "Good merchant, is the necklace that the Ranger tossed to you indeed the necklace that was taken from you?"

"Of course it is!"

Mellonin took a deep breath. "And how will you prove that it was the boy who stole it?"

"Of course he did! He's just a theif! Anyone can see it in him! Just look at him!"

Mellonin hardly knew how to argue with what the merchant said; Aeron's shifty eyes, expensive yet ill-tailored clothes and his quickness to cringe did indeed cast a shadow on him.

"That was not the lord's question, " Raefindan retorted. "The lord wants proof."

The merchant stood. "It's my necklace!"

"How do you know this was the boy who took it?"

"He's a well- known thief!"

"He is not the only thief in Gondor, " replied Mellonin. She watched the merchant's face, and then regretted saying it.

The merchant's eyes went wide.with indignation and he turned on Ravion, and they were both on their feet.. "You! You had it in your pocket! You took it! You --- so you want mercy for the boy, do you? You miserable prowling trickster-- when did you take it? I ought to drown you right now! Draw, vermin!"

Their blades sang and crossed; their eyes glittered, and the footwork began as they tested each other. The henchman drew, and stepped forward, watching for foul play.

Mellonin drew a quick breath, and glanced at Raefindan, who was standing wide-eyed, and had shouted "Stop! "Stop this madness!"

Aeron stood. "He did not take it! I took it!"

Mellonin stepped as close as she dared and held up a shaking hand. "Stop. Stop, halt!" Her voice was shaking, and it broke into a girlish squeak.

The two men stepped back, with their blades still raised.

Aeron said it again. "He did not take it. I took it."

The merchant spoke through his teeth. "Then you'll drown!"

Raefindan waved his hands. "We were supposed to let the lord decide the boy's fate, remember?"

Still seething, the merchant faced Mellonin. "Well, Lord Fingon?"

She drew herself up to her height again, and still trembling, she replied with a quavering voice, "You show no mercy, sir. And I would not trust such a boy-- however guilty he may be-- to such a jailer. You may not drown the boy, nor break his arm, nor boil his hand."

The merchant sheathed his blade, a cold sneer of contempt etched on his features.

Mellonin tried to stop shaking, and could not; and her voice shook. "You, " she managed to say, "will take your necklace. And this ranger will take the boy, and train him to be good. I have decided."

[littlemanpoet]

The merchant eyed Mellonin distrustfully. "Lord Fingon, eh?" His tone dripped with suspicion. "Prove it. You are no lord. Prove it to me, or your judgement is false. Worse, if you are no lord, you lie and are no better than this thief, who at least has admitted his crime." The merchant walked up to Mellonin with measured steps, staring into her face. He got up close and sneered into her face, "Prove it, girl." He grinned, then laughed. "Some lord, so soft of face and rough of hand! You'll have to do better than that!" He laughed even harder, then broke off and scowled. "The boy has spoken his crime. Since he stole from me, his punishment is mine to mete out."

Raefindan spoke up. "Sir, you have us at a disadvantage. But we need this boy and his sister." Raefindan did not know precisely why this was so, but it seemed to him that it was so, and would be proven in the future. His own usefulness to this party was more in doubt, as far as he was concerned.

"Take me as hostage until the boy returns to Gondor."

"No!" Mellonin cried, forfeiting all pretense to manhood.

The merchant regarded Raefindan, rubbing his unshaven chin. "What use would you be to me, Red?"

"I will serve as your steward, if you would have it so."

"Raefindan! No!" She ran to him and whispered into his ear, "The dreams!" So that was his usefulness. He had forgotten in the chaos of the day's events; but he had made his offer, and there it stood.

"What does she whisper to you, Red?"

"It has to do with our quest."

"A quest, eh? Tell me of it."

[Imladris]

Aeron shivered by the fire, his clothes clinging to his skin like blood sucking leeches -- except that they, instead, sucked the warmth from him. He smiled at Gwyllion as she came and hugged him, cradling her head on his shoulder. He knew she would forgive him. The merchant had hastened the forgiveness, of course, but his personal charm would have made it irresistable for her to be angry with him for more than a few days. He smiled at her.

Mellonin draped a blanket around their shoulders, and he said, "Thank you, my lord Fingon." Gwyllion shoulders shivered with laughter and Aeron himself wrestled with a grin that strived to appear. Calling her a lord -- he wondered if she could pull it off. She was nothing but a servant woman! It would indeed be interesting if she could or not.

"You should have called her something other than a lord," Gwyllion whispered.

"I know, but if a lie is to be told, why not make it into a glorious lie," Aeron murmured into her ear. "It is more fun that way."

"Your fun could get you into trouble."

He rolled his eyes. How typical of his sister to point that out to him. He was already in trouble and if the merchant discovered his falsehood it would not matter.

What was this? The merchant was accusing Ravion of stealing the necklace? Drat and blast, how could he sully the Ravion's name as a ranger? A ranger! Aeron's mouth gaped and his brows met in a jagged frown. Of all the the things that he had been hearing today, stupid lectures and all, this was the most outrageous of them all. It was a far stretch of the imagination to imagine a ranger stealing a bit of jewelery. Aeron wondered the ranger had a young sweetheart...but still! Then again, if the ranger was accused it would make his life ten times easier. He would no longer be his servant...but...then there was Mellonin and Raefindan. They were kind folks...and the ranger would have to protect them. Shaking himself, grimacing at his stupidity, Aeron climbed to his feet as the merchant and the ranger crossed blades. "He did not take it, I took it!" Aeron shouted. Seeing as the shout had no noticable effect, he bellowed, "He did not take it, I took it!"

"Then you'll drown," the merchant said through clenched teeth.

Aeron rolled his eyes. It was most probably an empty threat. Ravion would not let him drown...but why? Aeron shrugged and sat back down. It was a mystery that he could not fathom.

He listened as Mellonin passed judgement on him, but was not satisfied that it would sway the merchant to a more lenient heart. He would be a deaf man if he did not realize that her voice was forced, a blind man to realize that her air of lordship was a bit false, and a man of dim wits if he could not see that she was shaken by the encounter.

He sighed and grinned at Mellonin. She had tried after all and she had done a pretty good job of it he figured.