S.A 1351
After countless cycles of the sun and moon, the dim light from a small window near the ceiling was all that illuminated the cell where Orneth found herself, disoriented and in pain. She felt weary and fatigued, plagued by an overwhelming need to sleep. Only occasionally was she able to gather some water to cleanse herself and find a little food. She wore a red velvet dress that did not belong to her. Faint whispering from a distant room could sometimes be heard, along with the occasional exclamation of "Hey!" before Orneth drifted back into her tormented slumber. One morning, however, she awoke feeling more alert and less burdened by pain. As she peered out the small window high on the wall, she noticed that it had snowed overnight. The sight made her shiver, and she drew the thin blanket tightly around herself. For the first time, her mind was clear, no longer consumed by exhaustion.
Looking around, she realized that she was trapped in a cell. The walls were constructed from bricks and stones, and the cold, unforgiving floor was made of concrete. The small window offered no hint of the passing seasons or time of day. She had lost track of how long she had been held captive and couldn't recall the events that had led to her imprisonment—only that she had been knocked unconscious. The last person she remembered seeing was Manyamë, a memory that filled her with unease. Anxiously, she waited for Lord Naerchanar to come and release her. Perhaps he was on a mission or tending to affairs in the fields, but surely someone must have informed him of her disappearance by now. It baffled her that no one seemed to have noticed she was gone. At the very least, Demdor should have sensed that something was wrong.
But who could have attacked her? She couldn’t fathom Demdor being responsible for such an act. It had to be a misunderstanding. Who would be so cruel as to imprison her simply for being curious? She refused to believe it could have been her friend, Naerchanar. It had to be someone else.
Driven by desperation, Orneth rushed towards the wall next to the neighboring cell, where she heard a faint voice. A loose brick-stone on the wall allowed her to release it, causing small stones to tumble to the floor and a faint light to filter through. Peering inside the darkened space, she saw movements in the distance. The voice from within spoke, "It's me, Orneth," and as it became clearer, she recognized it as Falchon's. Orneth felt relieved to at least know him a little. He seemed friendly towards her, but the situation was still uncertain. "I'm sorry, I couldn't get any help," she whispered. Falchon replied, "I didn't expect you to. I warned you. The prison guard locked you up. I told them it was a mistake. You haven't done anything wrong." Orneth asked Falchon, "Is Manyamë still here?" A moment of silence passed before he spoke again, "She's been removed." This revelation left Orneth with even more questions and confusion. What did it mean? Who was behind her imprisonment, and why had Manyamë been taken away?
Orneth's heart sank as she contemplated the years of searching that had led her to this moment of almost meeting Manyamë. She could see her in her mind's eye, sitting in the corner as if she were there herself. However, the disappointment of not being able to reach her was almost too much to bear. Looking through the small hole in the wall, she saw movement, a shadow of something or someone. Orneth felt comfort knowing that there was another being nearby, even if they were separated by walls and barriers. "Do you know why she was removed?" Orneth asked, her voice barely audible through the small hole. Falchon responded in a whisper, "She encountered something she never should have encountered." Orneth's curiosity was piqued, and she asked softly, "What was it?" Falchon's answer sent a chill down her spine, "There are forces and darkness in this time and age, milady. Something is just hard to explain. Let's just say the person you once knew is not the same anymore." "I don't understand. What has she encountered?" Orneth asked. A tense silence followed before Falchon continued, "My father..." Orneth could feel the weight of Falchon's words and responded, "Did he hurt her?" Falchon replied, "In many ways, he has. Perhaps not physically, as I think he had this strange kind of love for her, but he is a victim of the strange clouds of darkness consuming our lands these days. He is a whisperer, with a dark tongue."
Orneth couldn't help feeling more confused than ever before and said, "Falchon, there are rumors of Eldars who are enslaved. The source is unknown to many, but there is a lot of disturbance in these lands according to soldiers who guided me to this place. Do you think he has become one of those slaves?" Falchon's answer left her with a sense of sadness, "Yes, and as much as I want to feel sympathy for his fate, I hate the fact that he has such power over my mother. They keep moving her from him. He is constantly searching for her as she is searching for him. I believe Naerchanar is trying to separate them with his cruel methods." Orneth felt disturbed by his words and said, "Naerchanar may be many things, but he is not cruel. Yes, he has changed from the days I once counted him as a friend, but I still do not believe he is cruel." Falchon quickly answered, his voice turning dark as he spat out his words, "Whatever you say, milady."
Orneth stepped away from the wall and lay down on her bedroll, her mind racing with worry and anxiety. She scanned the hallway from between the cell-bars, hoping to catch a glimpse of her friend Naerchanar's familiar face, but he was nowhere in sight. Falchon's behavior had put her on edge. His talk of rage, curses, and his father's allegiance to the dark side left Orneth feeling uneasy. She couldn't quite make sense of it all. What troubled her most were the visions she had seen through Manyamë's eyes. They were harrowing experiences filled with despair and violence. She despised her newly discovered abilities, the power to see images and situations that had never happened before.
As time went by, Orneth felt an increasing sense of anxiety gnawing at her. Why hadn't Naerchanar and Demdor become alarmed about her disappearance? It was out of character for them both, and she couldn't help but wonder what could have happened to them. While she didn't know Demdor well, he appeared to be a fine soldier, scout, and loyal person. Naerchanar, on the other hand, had changed, but there were moments when she caught glimpses of the friend she once loved. In the evenings, Orneth felt a certain connection to Falchon. He treated her with respect and answered most of her questions. As they continued to talk through the wall, Orneth felt a sense of camaraderie with Falchon. He was unlike anyone she had ever met - calm, stoic, and with a way of presenting himself that reminded her of Feawing. She found herself drawn to him and his enigmatic demeanor, and she began to realize that he might be the only ally she had in this dark and uncertain place.
Picture AI-generated from Microsoft Bing DALL·E
