Dreamscape-Part One

A brief Elven fantasy based on a dream I had.

She shivered slightly in the chill of the stone hallway, pulling her black wool cloak closer about her. This was definitely not the warmest Keep she’d ever been in. It was odd; this was the third such sign of “something wrong” she’d noted since she’d arrived. Not unusual; Ne’tharan was Duir’nadan. She had not, however, expected to see these signs in Maedrun’s Keep. The thought of Maedrun in trouble saddened her, though Maedrun wouldn’t have called her otherwise, under these circumstances. Aran frowned slightly. Unfortunately, she was needed too greatly, these days, and she knew Maedrun was well aware of that. So what need was so great, so pressing, that she would have Ne’tharan risk everything to get there?
Maedrun sat by the fire, singing softly. Flames danced in her hair, pale as spun moonlight. The raven-haired infant in her arms sighed once, and then was still. The sudden knock at the door made her start, breaking her focus. Relief flooded her being at recognizing the Presence of the one politely awaiting permission to enter; if Ne’tharan could not help her, no one could. “Enter, dear friend.”
Maedrun stood, Itrean in arms, as Aran entered the chambers in a swirl of wool cloak and leathers, her Duir’nadan’s uniform. No surprise, she’d summoned Ne’tharan from an assignment. Whatever it had been, Ne’tharan would not thank her; this was surely more dangerous by far.
“I came as fast as I could…Fortune granted that I was no’ far from ye.” The strength of Ne’tharan’s accent gave away her concern.
“Thank you greatly for doing so. It is fortunate indeed that you were close.”
Aran’s sudden smile lit the room. “For ye, anythin’; Lady knows I owe ye enough.”
Maedrun could not help but smile in return. “Yes, well; what I have to ask of you will cancel any debt between us, my friend.”
Aran’s sudden smile vanished. She had not missed the implications of that statement. As much as she hated to be in anyone’s debt, she hated to lose a dear friend still more. “Aye…as bad as all o’that, it is, then?”
Maedrun met Aran’s gaze at that, blue to blue-green. “Yes, and likely as grave for you, if you will do this for me.” She turned and crossed the room to set Itrean down.
“Ye needn’t have asked, Maedrun. I wouldna have come otherwise.” The Duir’nadan pointed out. “But what could be so dire? Be there no hope?”
At Maedrun’s negation, Aran crossed the room to catch her up in a fierce hug. “And I suppose I canna just simply convince ye to leave?”
Maedrun shook her head again, returning the embrace. She was not afraid to face what lay ahead.
Running a hand through her red-black curls as she stepped back, exposing one finely pointed ear tip as she did so, Ne’tharan sighed inwardly. “Then, I wish the best for ye, Maedrun.”
“The Mother keep us both, Ne’tharan.”
Suddenly, the Keep came alive, rocking violently. Aran blinked in surprise, suddenly finding herself with the unexpected burden of Maedrun’s weight. Off balance and unable to support them both, she went down, cushioning Maedrun’s fall instinctively. As soon as it had begun, it passed, the objects fallen about the room the only sign that anything had ever been amiss.