Many Journeys by Elleth

Candles Out

Gwindor and Finduilas, one evening after his return from Angband.

When Gwindor returned from the council, Finduilas was in his rooms, stitching designs onto a pillow cover. He could have sat watching her hand fly with the needle for the remainder of the night, her nightgown occasionally slipping to reveal her shoulder – surely not entirely scandalous, or at least she did not seem to think so, folded against the headboard as she was: They were, still, betrothed. They had had their tearful reunion to satisfy custom, and Finduilas herself had surrendered her ring to be recast into two, barely thicker than sheet metal, and she had laughed like the sunlight on water he had named her for.

She was not smiling now, and as he watched the movement of her hand seemed to become irritable and fluttery with stabs of the needle, before a cloud passed over her visage and she let her embroidery sink. She reached for him instead, fingers resting lightly on his arm, a gesture of familiar promise.

"My mind is… elsewhere," she replied to his look, but must have noticed his discomfort, him drawing back and shifting the maimed arm from view, for she tilted her head toward the candles and graciously blew them out.

Chapter End Notes

Written for nerdanel-istarnie on tumblr, for the prompt Gwindor - Lygerastia. I do think that they both have their own reasons for the room to be dark.