Er... Well, I'm back? I'm so sorry...

First: I give you full opportunity to slap me in the face with a fish.
Second: This is from Silmalir's perspective. And it is elaborating Silmalir's personality.
Third: Thank all of you who have remained patient with me and would continue to read this, despite my three weeks of absence.

Lady Alquasar didn't like Lady Finienel. I knew that much. I was not blind to everything that happened around me, such as the hurt that radiated off of Makalaurë when he realised that I would not speak to him, and then the persistence of Tyelkormo wishing to speak to Fánamaril, as she told me later on. She also mentioned that males were too chauvinistic, and as long as Tyelkormo remained that way, she wouldn't even bother to call him by his name.

Today, I was sure that Lady Alquasar would have felt provoked when Lady Finienel asked for Fánamaril and my company. As I was about to leave the lounging room that had been set up for our stay, I looked around at the scenery and the chair that Lady Alquasar would have sat in.

I imagined the conversation in my head:

"I do not trust that lady."

I gave her a forced smile. "Thank you for your concern, my lady."

She frowned at my response but nodded. "Go and have fun then."

But she had directly told us not to have any contact with Lady Finienel. Though we abided by her orders not to speak with Makalaurë and his brothers, I simply could not find the willpower to abide by this one command.

We meandered through the gardens as Lady Finienel requested, and I walked slightly ahead as she and Fána chatted about nothing in particular. I thought about the conversation I had with Makalaurë yesterday, where I told him about my father. It was the very same garden, and I almost managed to see him and me, sitting there and talking about nothing. Although I did most of the talking while he just nodded and listened.

Then I caught a hold of the conversation and Fána's uneasy voice.

"So, do you know Lord Turcafinwë very well?" Lady Finienel asked.

"Um...not really, my lady. He is a lord, and I am a servant, and we barely see each other in the halls."

"Surely you and him are friends, then? He sat across from you."

"He sat between Lady Aicelen and Lady Lohtilin." Fánamaril's voice was strained.

I turned around and added my assent. "The daughters of Lady Alquasar are truly beautiful." Fána nodded. "I would not be surprised."

Lady Finienel looked like she wasn't satisfied with this answer, but she let it go. "Oh, alright. Let us have some tea, then. I fancy the brand from Taniquetil, but I hear that it is only in storage, and that it must be fetched from the cabinets."

Obviously she wanted us to go get it.

Fána smiled politely. "I shall go 'fetch' the tea."

I didn't want to be left alone with Lady Finienel. I looked around for a random servant that I recognised: Riellondë. "Riellondë! Do you mind staying with Lady Finienel for just one moment? I shall get a chair that is suitable for sitting."

Riellondë blinked for a few moments, as if not comprehending. She soon found her at the end of Lady Finienel's penetrating gaze as I went away with Fánamaril to find a chair and that Taniquetil tea.

I asked Ringalannë if there was any tea from Taniquetil in the stores. She shrugged and said that I could check. Then she remembered that it was locked, the tea storage room (there are many storage rooms, so they had to be separately named), and led us to one of the rooms on the first floor.

Upon arrival, Ringalannë warned Fánamaril that the door was old, and that would lock again if it was closed, so we had to be careful in going in. Of course, Fána didn't like the sound of that, so I volunteered to go in, much to my stupidity. Ringalannë simply shook her head and went away, muttering something about good luck and the Valar's blessing.

I turned to Fánamaril. "You go get the chair. I'll look for the tea."

And with that, I stepped into the room. The very room that had only one torch and was pretty dark. The only thing that kept me strong was the light filtering from the crack in the doorway. I took the torch from the holder and began my tedious search of tea. I slowly began to feel like a ridiculous coward with a ridiculous fear of the dark when I realised it wasn't so bad after all.

There were footsteps, but I paid it no heed and continued to sweep the room. Then my brilliant mind figured out that it might be in order with the symbols of the Sarati. Unlike most servants, I was quite educated, taught by my father and tutors. Then, abruptly, the door swung shut with a loud noise of the hinges being rocked, and I stupidly dropped the torch in my shock. The light went out, and darkness quickly dominated as the torch cooled off. I gasped and quickly ran towards the door.

No, no, no!

"Manya!" No...

When there was no respose, I continued to shout out, "Manya! Manya!"

Footsteps padded away, and I came to the epiphany that someone had locked me in here, all alone in the dark. Tears started to form, threatening to overflow ever to my burning shame, and I raised a hand—only to drag it down the cold door and wipe my eyes. Why would someone do this to me? Me, of all people? Me, the one who was afraid of the dark?

I gave up trying to call for help and fell to my knees against the cold cellar wall. (I knew that it once was a wine cellar that turned into a tea storeroom.) And I allowed myself to cry, knowing my father wouldn't find me this time. He couldn't.

Not when we were so far away from each other.

Fánamaril began to worry for Silmalir. She still hadn't showed with the tea, and Riellondë reported that Lady Finienel left a while ago. Then Lady Finienel returned from out of nowhere with a smug look on her face. Then her face was contorted of shock, confusion, and horror at seeing Fánamaril.

"What is it, my lady?" she ground out.

"You—I—nothing," Lady Finienel said finally. "Where is the tea?"

Fána bowed in apology. "Silmalir has not come back yet. I assume that she is still searching the stores, my lady." My lady this, my lady that.

"Ah. Well, I shall retire for the day."

What? Did she hear Lady Finienel correctly? "Pardon, Lady Finienel?"

She shot Fánamaril an irritated look. "I said that I would retire for the day, as in rest, and partake in no more activites." When Fána made to follow after her, she raised a hand. "I shall go alone."

Fánamaril stood there, puzzled as Lady Finienel strode away, her gown basically wiping the cobblestone path. Without something to do, she thought it would be best to take the chair back to the banquet hall.

Then her thoughts wandered back to Silmalir, and why she did not come back either with tea or empty-handed. Where was she? Perhaps she got caught up trying to avoid Maitimo, Makalaurë, and Tyelkormo—

"Fánamaril."

The Valar must hate me, she mused quietly.

"Why do you think the Valar hate you?"

Did I say that out loud?

"Yes."

Fánamaril turned around, not surprised when she saw Tyelkormo's fair face. "Greetings, Lord Turcafinwë." She resisted the urge to smile when he made a face at his ataressë.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Just call me Tyelkormo, like you used to. That name is simply too old for my taste."

"But you are older than your name," she remarked.

He rolled his eyes, but his face softened. "I'm sorry if I offended you yesterday. I wanted to warn you against Grandfather's guest."

"Lady Finienel?"

"Precisely."

"I doubt she is anyway harmful, my lord. Tiresome, but not harmful."

"Fánamaril—"

Said female Elf thought she caught sight of Lady Alquasar. "I must go."

"Wait, Fánamaril—"

"Goodbye," she said, ending the conversation. She was about to leave when something caught hold of her upper arm. "My lord, I really must—"

"Fánamaril," Tyelkormo said in a low voice. "Look. I'm sorry for whatever I did. I just wish you and Silmalir would speak to me again."

"It's not you—" she choked out.

"It probably is! My Ammë didn't speak to my Atar for an entire week because he did not check on her for one night! Tell me what I did wrong, Fánamaril, so the Valar might allow me to change what happened!"

Fána sighed. "Not so loud, Tyelkormo." His shoulders nearly sagged with relief. "I am allowed to speak to neither you nor your brothers."

Of course, this time Tyelkormo's shoulders sagged, but with dejection. "What... Why?"

"Lady Alquasar."

Of course. It had been that lady all along. "And you abide by that command?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"It would make your life a lot more lively if you spoke with my brothers and I."

"Yeah right." Tyelkormo suddenly grinned. Fána immediately associated it with a dreading feeling. "What?" she asked defensively.

"You are speaking to me."

She rolled her eyes. "I am going now—"

"No, wait."

"What now, Tyelkormo? I hate to leave, but I have to find Silmalir!"

"Wait, what?"

"Oh, so now you decide to listen to my protests?" Fánamaril muttered. "I. Need. To. Find. Silmalir. She didn't come back after I left her in the storerooms."

Tyelkormo's expression grew more troubled by the minute as he pondered his answer. "There are almost a hundred storerooms in this palace, Fána. She could be in any one, and we wouldn't be able to find her. Do you know exactly where it is?"

"I think so. Ringalannë led us to it, and I remembered that there was a tapestry hanging on the wall next to the small hallway leading into it. It is on this floor, I am sure."

"East wing or west?"

"East, I think."

Tyelkormo grinned. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Cold.

That is how I felt.

Numb.

That is what I was.

Dark.

That is what I was surrounded in.

I could see myself, distinct and glowing, and it frightened me. I could see nothing else but two ghostly pale hands, connected to wrist and arm. But I could not see anything else. It was unnatural to emit light in darkness without the blessing of the Valar. I was scared. My throat was hoarse from crying, so I no longer pleaded for help. I settled for slumping against the cold, uneven surface of the wall and continued to weep of my situation, keeping my hands at my sides so I would not see them.

Unlike the other doors in the palace, such as the door to the room that I resided in, this door was a perfect fit for the height of the hallway to floor. The bottom rested on firm ground, so I could not lay down on my side and look for any feet that might come towards the storeroom. The room was all but dark, and I was spared only by my luminescent glow. And that only added to my torture.

You see, I realised I was afraid of the dark when I was five.

Aicelen and Lohtilin (eleven and ten, respectively) locked me into the cupboard under the grand stairs, and it was very dark. There was a slight crack under the door where I could stick my fingers out, which I did, to get any passerby's attention. Atar found me there, crying and screaming, and he told me about the Light in all of us when I would not go to sleep, for fear of the dark room.

This was different..

With my eyes open, I only saw darkness.

But with my eyes closed, I saw my Atar and Ammë, smiling at me.

They were joyously laughing, holding each other in their arms. Ammë gestured for me to join them, but I couldn't move.

Why couldn't I move?

manya: ask for help

ataressë: father-name

I can only say...
Please forgive me?