S.A 2061 Summertime
Orneth’s body was taken over by a sudden fever that came so strongly it felt like she was being torn apart from the inside. The terrible pain was focused in her lower body, and she let out loud screams and sobs as she tried to handle it.
Even though the pain was intense, Orneth forced herself to stand up from her chair and slowly move toward the kitchen. Her legs felt heavy and hard to control. Every step was a struggle, and each burst of pain made her cry out even louder. Her heart sank when she saw liquid and blood gathering on the floor; she realized right away what was happening.
Later that evening, with no one around to help her and no signs to warn her, Orneth understood she was in labor. Her only hope was the faraway lighthouse, its fire still shining in the dark. As the contractions became stronger, she fell to the ground but was determined to survive and help herself. She looked for water to clean herself and noticed she had lost a lot of blood. Unsure if this was normal, she prepared herself for what was coming next.
With each contraction, Orneth’s body was wracked with even more pain, forcing her to push with all her might. She screamed and trembled as she felt something emerge from her, and in a matter of moments, a wet, bloody, lifeless body fell onto the floor. Orneth wiped away the blood on its face and saw that it was a beautiful baby boy with dark raven hair and delicate features. He did not breathe and had turned blue. The sight of her lifeless child broke Orneth’s heart.
Despite the overwhelming grief and pain, Orneth’s instincts kicked in. She carefully pounded his chest and tried to stand up, but her legs shook, and she felt dizzy. In a desperate bid to save her child, she wrapped him in cloth and ran into the dark woods, pounding and tapping his chest while breathing air into his small mouth. All she wanted was to breathe life into him.
As she ran, the enormity of the situation hit her. Why was she doing this? It would have been easier if the child had died. Orneth could avoid the shame and rejection that had befallen Falchon.. She could avoid explaining to others what had happened. However, as she held her lifeless son, she realized that the connection his father had hoped to make with the child was no longer possible. The reason for the child’s stillbirth was clear – Falquandio, the father, was dead. Orneth felt a huge sense of relief, but also a tremendous sense of sorrow.
Orneth’s feet pounded deeper into the eastern woods, a dense forest shrouded in towering trees and murky swamps. With her child’s fragile life cradled in her arms, her heart raced with a frantic beat. The little one had miraculously survived, a faint breath escaping his lips with each weak sound. Orneth felt a glimmer of hope amidst the despair, but knew that the reality of her situation was dire – she couldn’t keep him.
Tears streamed down her face as she gently laid the child on the ground, the bloodstained cloth embracing his tiny body. She looked around in desperation, searching for a solution that seemed impossible to find. “I cannot keep you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. The child’s dark grey eyes gazed up at her in wonder, as if pleading for her to stay.
Orneth’s heart ached with deep frustration as she accepted what she must do. She worked quickly to construct a makeshift shelter out of wood, branches, and leaves. “This will protect you from the harsh elements and keep you safe from wild beasts,” she said softly, trying to reassure herself as much as the child. But in her heart, she knew it wasn’t enough – she was abandoning her own flesh and blood.
As she turned to leave, Orneth felt her spirit shatter into a million pieces. Each step away from her child felt like a dagger in her heart, a crushing weight of guilt and shame that threatened to consume her. She had lost her mind, she thought, to leave her own son behind. But she promised herself that he would be rescued, that someone would find him and give him the life he deserved – just not her.
The night wore on, and Orneth ran through the woods with a fervor that bordered on madness. The first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon, bathing the world in a golden light. Orneth paused, mesmerized by the beauty of the sunrise. “Anarórion,” she whispered, naming her child after the son of the sunrise. It was the least she could do, a small tribute to the child she could not keep.
Completely drained, Orneth collapsed onto her bed, the weight of exhaustion crushing her. She was plunged into a dark, empty void, a strange sense of loss looming over her. In her slumber, she whispered the name “Anarórion.”
Later that day, Demdor’s urgent voice broke through her sleep. Orneth’s eyes snapped open, only to be met with a sharp, stabbing pain in her stomach. Demdor’s gaze was unyielding as he demanded, “Where is it?”
Orneth’s mind was clouded, and she struggled to make sense of the question. “Where is Falchiel?” she replied. Demdor’s response was swift, “She is with Falchon at the farm.” Overcome with emotion, Orneth wept, “I need to see her and tell her I love her.” Demdor shook her with urgency, repeating, “Orneth! Look at me. Where is it?”
It was then that Orneth became aware of the blood that stained her and her bed. With mounting horror, she realized, “I.. I placed it in the woods.” Demdor heaved a deep sigh, his voice heavy with regret, “He arrived way too early.. was it stillborn?” Orneth was seized with terror, staring at Demdor in a desperate plea for reassurance. His voice rose in anger, demanding once again, “Was it dead?” She shook her head, “No..”
Stepping back, Demdor regarded her with despair. “Very well. We must find it. Time is running out. Beasts and wild animals abound in the east woods.” Orneth gazed up at him, her voice trembling as she spoke, “I can’t have it. I don’t want it.” Demdor readied himself to leave the house, instructing, “Clean yourself up, Orneth. We have to find it. There are other options we can explore. I have a sister who can help us. Leaving it helpless and alone in the woods is not a solution, Orneth. You could never live with that kind of choice. I know you too well.”
Fear gripped Orneth as she surveyed her surroundings, whispering in a voice thick with dread, “Oh Demdor. What have I done…?”
Orneth writhed in agony, as if knives were piercing through her entire body. Her energy was depleted, and fatigue weighed heavily upon her. Demdor, however, had his trusty horse to help them in their search. Orneth reminisced about the trail leading eastward through the woods, remembering every tree and the sequence of their placement. She also observed the ground, noticing the recent traces of a runner. But, she recognized the steps as her own from the previous night.
Eventually, they arrived at the small shelter she had built, and Demdor leapt off his horse, scanning the area with sharp eyes. Orneth, meanwhile, tossed aside the leaves and branches, searching for something that was missing. She found only a fragment of cloth that had once wrapped the lost item. She was overcome with grief and frustration, pummeling the ground with her fists and shouting, “Nooo! No! Where is it, Demdor? Where is it?”
In an attempt to console her, Demdor embraced Orneth and uttered, “All right, let’s ride around the area. We can’t give up hope just yet.” Demdor lifted her up and placed her in front of him on his horse, commanding it to start trotting. Orneth gazed around, her mind suddenly fixated on her child’s image, with dark grey eyes and raven-colored hair. She remembered the way he used to look at her with wonder, as if needing her, but now she had left him in the woods.
For hours, they searched the surroundings, yet they found no signs or traces of the child. Demdor speculated, “Perhaps someone has found the child, Orneth. I don’t believe it was an animal. Otherwise, there would have been some trace or sign. Let’s inquire with the villagers, since it’s not unusual for hunters and scouts to pass through this area.”
As they rode back home, Demdor held Orneth’s hand as she wept, lamenting, “What have I done, Demdor?” Demdor comforted her with a soothing voice, “It arrived too soon, and we didn’t have the chance to prepare or discuss any solutions. You weren’t thinking clearly yesterday, and it was a tough night for you.”
Orneth continued sobbing, “I even gave the child a name. Why did I do that?” Demdor tenderly caressed her cheek, “What’s done is done. I’ll discreetly observe and ask the villagers if they have seen or heard anything unusual.” Orneth gazed at Demdor and asked, “Do you think we’ll find him?” Demdor replied warmly. “I wish I could give you the answer you’re seeking, Orneth, but I can’t.”
