Not a word uttered… grey eyes meeting green for a fleeting moment, wondering. Suddenly, sounds come filtering in through the air. Crackling from the open fireplace, hands touching fabric, small sighs… a bird chirping in the background. Closed off, hidden away in a cage, left there to amuse. There was little amusement now. Something compelled her to listen again. Her friend uttered the words ‘leaving’ and ‘Vanimar’ in the same sentence. Himwen looked up at Rainith, for the first time truly observing her. Seeing the strength in her friend, the same strength that had taken her through the darkness of Moria and the forests of Lorien. The same strength that had held her up during times of uncertainty and despair. Himwen tilted her head, admiring her long time companion, and wondered if this was truly a choice of her own, or if it was brought on by the awful choice given. “Join our house or forever leave Galdorion.”
Himwen shivered, her charcoal hair brushing against her ivory cheeks, not wanting to think of the consequences. She would not see less of Rainith now, for they had always had different tasks to fulfill in the house of Lady Tingruviel. But she would not see her when walking down the halls, would not speak to her as she entered the kitchen or as they bumped into eachother in the stairwell.
Things change. Elves change. Would she stop caring for Rainith? Himwen looked at her again, noticing the resolute expression on her delicate face, her hands neatly folded in her lap and the tentative smile. Somehow Himwen did not believe their relationship could change. They would have less time together, perhaps, but they had been through so much already… Another crackle in the fireplace and Himwen reached for a cookie from the table beside them, handing it to Rainith. It was for these moments she lived, the moments with her dear friends.
As they munched away on the delicacies, Himwens thoughts travelled back in time. Back to the time she caught that fish she later hung on the wall in hers and Tindirs house. A smile broke out on her lips as she remembered the time on the rock… that time she realized there was something more than just friendship between her and her Hammerite. As she glanced towards Rainith again, she absentmindedly stroked the silver ring on her finger. Himwens fear that her betrothal to Tindir would be the same as the fate the bird in the cage had suffered was gone. This was her choice, a choice made out of love and affection. Rainith did not share her view on taking vows, but that did not matter. The silver ring was hers. Somehow it now felt like a trophy, and not a ball and chain. This house felt like home.
