S.A 1352
Orneth was consumed by melancholy because Naerchanar had failed to seek her out. Although she had tried to ignore the possibility that he may have disappointed her, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Speaking with Falchon offered her some comfort. Despite Falchon's responses often being mysterious, Orneth was still grateful for them. In turn, Falchon asked about Orneth's past in Doriath, her craft, and her calling. However, he rarely talked about her mission, and Orneth couldn't help but notice.
She knew her questions could be delicate, but she couldn't resist asking, "Did you ever meet your father?" Her voice was soft but insistent. Falchon paused, his eyes flickering with a hint of pain, and then replied in a subdued voice, "I have. Let us talk about something else. Let us not dwell on these dark topics." Despite his reluctance, Orneth could sense Falchon's inner turmoil. "I do not remember your face," he said, his tone warming slightly. "You are a Sindar. I know that. What do you look like?" Orneth sensed Falchon's desire to change the subject. She knew he had been through a lot, and talking about his past and family must have been difficult. "Average, I would say," she replied, smiling shyly. "I do not possess the same beauty as Lady Manyamë and your ancestors. My hair is golden, and some would say it is usually a mess. My eyes are grey with a touch of green and sometimes blue." Falchon responded in a thoughtful tone. "Like the ocean," he murmured, and Orneth felt her heart skip a beat. "Well, that is a nice way to describe my eyes, I suppose," she said, trying to sound nonchalant. "I do like your voice, though," Falchon said, changing the subject. "It is warm, and the way you speak Quenya does not sound as harsh as it usually can." Orneth blushed, feeling a surge of happiness in her chest. "Well, I suppose it's the accent of Sindarin that shines through," she said, feeling more at ease.
As Orneth and Falchon conversed, she sensed his guarded nature, but she continued nonetheless. "You bear a strong resemblance to your uncle Marilo and share some similarities with your grandfather," she remarked, trying to lighten the mood. "Both were extraordinary individuals who accomplished a lot for their family. Your grandfather was a mighty warrior in Gondolin," she continued. Falchon replied with a simple, "Is that so?" and Orneth eagerly nodded. "Indeed, he was. He loved his kindred and family, and I am certain he would welcome you into his family with open arms, no matter what. Perhaps you could channel your inner darkness into something positive? Maybe becoming a soldier could help distract you from your thoughts?" Falchon laughed lightly, but then fell silent, the tension between them growing palpable. "Orneth, I would rather not talk about myself," he said, his voice terse. "Tell me a story from Doriath or the Havens." Orneth felt a lump form in her throat, but she took a deep breath and began recounting the events by Ered Luin and the great sea that threatened to drown the lands.
Another night fell upon them, and as Orneth drifted off to sleep, she suddenly heard Falchon's screams pierce through the night. She jolted awake and rushed towards the cell bars, her heart racing. Confusion etched on her face as she tried to locate the source of the cries. A faint voice in the distance reassured her, "He only has one of his nightmares. Do not worry." Despite the reassurance, Orneth couldn't shake off the feeling of concern for the person in distress. She made her way towards the wall and began meticulously removing small stones and bits of concrete from the bricks, desperate to reach the person in need. The hole was narrow, and she wondered if her slender arms could fit through it. "Falchon, wake up. It is just your nightmares," she called out, determined to provide comfort and support. With grit and determination, Orneth forced her arm through the tiny tunnel, ignoring the pain of concrete and sharp edges scratching her delicate skin. Finally, she felt fingers wrap around hers, and she knew she had reached him. For a few moments, they shared an intimate connection through the small opening in the wall. Though they had only just met, Orneth felt a growing sense of closeness towards Falchon. When she eventually withdrew her arm, she noticed small wounds and scratches that were bleeding. Embarrassment crept over her as she realized that her efforts to provide comfort had resulted in harm to herself.
Falchon was quick to express his concern, "Are you fine, Orneth?" She chuckled softly, "Yes, I am sorry. I just wanted you to know that I am here for you." His response warmed her heart, "It was nice to hold your hand." Her smile mirrored his sentiment, "Likewise. Are you feeling better now?" He reassured her, "Yes, it was just a bad dream. I am fine." Orneth knew better than to pry into his personal nightmares. Instead, she gently asked, "Do you have anything positive to focus on when you have these nightmares? Someone who brings light to your life?" Falchon took a moment to think before responding, "I do not have many good memories. But I have you now." Orneth closed her eyes, the realization slowly dawning on her. For the first time in a long while, someone had expressed their appreciation and need for her. It made her feel cherished and needed by someone who was slowly becoming more than just a stranger to her.
As the days and nights passed, Orneth couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss in the outside world. She wondered why nothing had happened and why no one had come to their rescue. What had happened to Lord Naerchanar? Despite her worries, she kept herself busy by writing in her diary and counting the days. Sometimes, she heard scratching sounds from the neighboring cell, and she knew Falchon was up to something, but she didn't know what. Then, one day, she heard Falchon's voice calling out to her, "Come here!"
As she reached out to take his hand, he tightly grabbed it with both of his hands and exclaimed, "Yes!" He placed something in her palm and then sealed her hand with his lips. Orneth's heart pounded as warmth spread through her body. She slowly pulled back her hand and opened it to reveal a crystalline green gemstone that shone brightly in her eyes. "How beautiful. Is it a beryl?" she asked.
Falchon nodded and asked, "Do you like it?" Orneth's heart pounded as she responded, "Thank you, Falchon." He explained that he had received the stone as a gift in return for a favor he had done for someone, and he had never thought of selling or keeping it. He just felt that now was the right time to give it away. Orneth smiled and thanked him, feeling grateful for the thoughtful gift. "I have never received a gift like this before. It's beautiful," she said.
Falchon chuckled and said, "Ah, it's just a stone. It's yours now." As Orneth hid the stone underneath her pillow, she couldn't help but think about Falchon and the small gestures he had done for her. She felt that he had become fond of her and brought some light into her life. She started to develop feelings for him and became more convinced than ever that he didn't deserve his cruel fate. As she fell asleep that night, she had vivid and lively dreams.
Picture AI-generated from Microsoft Bing DALL·E
