Brithombar, 70 FA

Finduilas stood at the top the wall, at the southernmost point of Brithombar. There was a spot there that she loved, away from everything, sheltered by a sharp turn to the left. Behind her, a small construction, a shed abandoned by the whale hunters offered shelter, if the sky would pour as it promised. Beneath her feet, the wall was stark and fell sharply to the sea. Very far below, waves crashed against a few shallow rocks. To her left, the built wall ended and cliffs upon cliffs continued south. Gulls cried as the cold, damp wind blew upon the shore. The sky was leaden and the water, safe for spots of white foam here and there, reflected the darkness above. Finduilas loved how everything was so menacing and invigorating and changeable. A single ray of sunlight piercing through the clouds could, in a fraction of a moment, turn an ominous seascape into a whole other kind of beauty, with silver and pale gold gloriously spreading until the clouds abruptly closed again.

Down in the city, her father worked his diplomacy with the lord of the Falas and her mother stayed inside, avoiding her own sister and bother-in-law. She was free to explore at will, and she had gladly done so, ever since they had arrived. She loved it even more than Vinyamar, where they had stopped before in their long journey. Here, she was truly free, whereas further north, she had been constrained by the very heavy etiquette of Turgon’s court and the hierarchy and precedence rules that made her mother, a northern Sinda, incessantly grumble about new-rich Noldor. Here, at the Falas, her mother who felt much disrespect for the Teleri for old and personal reasons, still found ways of picking fights with Orodreth, but Finduilas did not have to stay and listen to them.

“Your hair looks like fine golden silk,” said Faindis, from behind her.

Finduilas smiled, a little startled.

“My hair looks like a mess,” she countered, without turning. She watched as two gulls fought the wind, using it to rise higher and higher. Warm hands wrapped around her shoulders and then ran over her arms, settling at her waist. A warm mouth nibbled at her hear.

“Faindis…” she said, leaning her cheek against her friend’s.

“I knew you would be here,” Faindis said.

Finduilas smiled and deeply inhaled the cold sea breeze. “I love how it smells here.”

Faindis kissed her shoulder in reply. Finduilas turned to face her.

“When are you leaving?”

“I do not know yet… it seems that I am destined to roam from land to land…”

“You could stay…”

Finduilas snorted. “My mother would throw the fit of all fits. Even my father would never allow it. Only if I were to be wed.”

Faindis chuckled. As they embraced, Finduilas looked over Faindis’ shoulder to the gloomy horizon. It had been unexpected, this thing with Faindis. There had been none of that flowery business of the poems. They had just met, two girls buying ribbons at the market, instant friends on the first day, lovers by the fourth. Her mind reeled with the impossibility of it all. She held on to the slender frame, embracing Faindis so tight that she laughed and pushed her away.

“Rib-breaker,” Faindis taunted, taking a step back, toward the shed. The wind lashed at her chestnut hair, and an enticing smile danced on her lips.

Finduilas’s blood rushed to her chest and down, down. Her mother’s opinion of the elves of the Falas would sink to a new low, if she ever found out this. She cared not. She fiercely kissed Faindis as they stumbled into the shed.

They lay on a clean blanket – Faindis was horribly practical – and spent the rest of the afternoon together. The light faded quickly and as they had dressed a flash of lightning illuminated startled them, followed by thunder.

Faindis chuckled at Finduilas’s dismay. “It’s just rain, silly.”

“It’s a storm,” Finduilas said.

Faindis laughed. “You weather much worse at home.”

Finduilas, who had been by the door watching as the first heavy raindrops fell hard to the ground, brusquely turned.

“I am sorry,” Faindis said, before she could speak. “It was an unthoughtful remark.”

Finduilas hesitated for a moment. She had not liked that Faindis had so lightly alluded to her confidences of the dreary, loveless marriage their parents had, and how that reflected upon her, but her loved had not meant it unkindly. Faindis closed the distance between them with two steps.

“Forgive me?” she said, brushing a golden lock from Finduilas’s cheek.

“Of course,” Finduilas replied, automatically. Faindis kissed her lightly on the lips and smiled.

“Will you invite me over to this Tol-Sirion of yours?” she asked, as she took the blanket and wrapped it around them. Both knew it was a fable. Travelling as not safe, despite the many outposts between the main cities, and it was far too expensive for a girl from a humble merchant family, with no apparent reason for the trip.

Finduilas indulged. “Of course,” she said. “Of course.” She smiled at Faidis, who winked back at her. They started running at the same time, their movements harmonious as they always were.

“Careful of the steps!” Faindis needlessly warned, shouting over thunder, as they started climbing down the wall. The blanket fell from Finduilas’s head, but she did not care. At the platform before the last flight of steps, she stopped Faindis and held her by the waist.

They stared into one another, as the rain drenched them.

“Tomorrow?” she said at last, instead of all the words of love and anticipated loss that bubbled inside her.

“Tomorrow.” Faindis’s eyes darted, but no one was outside and it was dark. She pressed a quick kiss onto Finduilas’s lips before running down the last steps, heading north, to the merchant quarter.

Finduilas stood in the cold rain for another moment, watching as Faindis disappeared into the dark, empty streets. Loud thunder right over her head pushed her to movement. She walked eastward, through the cobbled streets, until she was home. Inside it was warm. Her mother napped in front of the fire with an open book sliding from her hand. Her father hummed a tune in his office. She closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, thankful for the warmth and, for once, peace.