Days continued to fold into one another within the weaver's cottage, a monotonous cycle that chafed against my very essence. The loom remained my tormentor, its clacking rhythm a constant reminder of my confined existence. Elara, still wary from my previous inquiries, maintained a quiet vigilance, her expressions of affection tinged with an underlying tension. My questions, it seemed, had drawn a veil of unease over her, one I needed to lift, or at least navigate around.
My attempts to probe this body's meager memories had yielded little more than a persistent ache in my ethereal mind. Lyra's past was a tapestry of mundane textures, familiar sounds, and the unseeing comfort of Elara's presence. No hidden power, no forgotten lore, just the quiet life of a blind orphan. My only recourse was to learn through direct experience, however limited.
One afternoon, the familiar scent of woodsmoke and damp earth grew stronger at the cottage door, accompanied by a familiar, hesitant knock.
"Elara? Lyra? It's Kaelen," a young man's voice called out, tentative but warm.
My senses sharpened. Kaelen. The boy who had found me at the mill. His presence offered a potential opening, a crack in the walls of my prison. Unlike Elara, he had shown less fear and more honest confusion. Perhaps he could be a means to an end.
"Kaelen, dear!" Elara's voice, though still weary, held a note of genuine relief. "Come in, come in."
His footsteps entered the cottage, bringing with them the fresher scent of the outside world – a hint of forest, a trace of freshly turned earth. "Just came to see how Lyra was faring," he explained, his voice closer now. "Heard she took a bad tumble. The whole village has been talking about the eclipse. Old Man Tiber said his cows haven't given milk since."
Elara chuckled, a dry, faint sound. "Oh, the cows will come around, Kaelen. Lyra is fine. Just a bit muddled, still. But she's back at the loom."
I kept this body's hands moving, maintaining the illusion of a diligently working, recovering girl. "Hello, Kaelen," I murmured, making the voice sound a little shy, a little weak.
"Lyra!" he exclaimed, his voice genuinely pleased. I heard him take a step closer. "Good to hear your voice, girl. You had us all worried. That was quite a fall. Are you feeling better?"
"Much better, thank you," I replied, allowing a faint tremble to enter the voice. "Elara has been looking after me."
"Aye, she has," Elara affirmed. "Now, Kaelen, don't you have chores to do? Your mother will be looking for you." There was a subtle urgency in her tone, a desire to usher him out. She clearly didn't want him asking questions, especially not with me present.
This was my chance. "Oh, Kaelen, wait!" I blurted out, a little louder than intended, but I quickly modulated it into a more appropriate, almost wistful tone. "I'm just so… bored. And I miss the village. It's been days, hasn't it?"
Kaelen paused. I sensed him turning, his attention shifting from Elara to me. "Missed the village, Lyra?" he repeated, a hint of genuine confusion in his voice. "But you're always here, at the loom. You don't usually… miss going out."
"Well, I do now!" I insisted, injecting a touch of childlike petulance into my voice. "The eclipse, and being stuck inside… I just feel like I've missed so much. What are the sounds of the market like, really? Do the children still play by the stream? I just… I want to know more about the village. I want to feel it again."
Elara's breath hitched. "Lyra, dear, you know it's not safe for you to wander alone," she interjected, her voice tight with immediate worry. "And Kaelen has duties."
"It's no bother, Elara," Kaelen said, his voice surprisingly firm. I could almost sense his youthful defiance against Elara's overprotective nature. "She just wants to hear about the village. What harm is there in that?" He seemed genuinely puzzled by Lyra's sudden interest, but also eager to please. "The market is loud, Lyra," he began, eager to share, "especially on a warm day. The smell of fresh bread from Master Finn's bakery, and old Maeve yelling about her chickens. And the children, yes, they still play by the stream. Just yesterday, young Torvin fell in, splashed mud all over his new tunic!" He chuckled, a bright, open sound.
I absorbed every detail, every sound, every scent he described, constructing a mental map of Noldor. This was a direct line to information I could not access through Lyra's inert memories.
"And beyond the village?" I asked, pushing subtly. "The forest. What does it look like? Is it very dark?" I thought of the faint power I'd sensed.
Kaelen paused, his tone shifting. "The forest is… big, Lyra. Very green. And yes, some parts are dark. Where the old, thick trees grow. My father says you can get lost easy there. But near the edges, it's beautiful. We gather berries there, and sometimes the boys try to hunt rabbits."
"Are there… other paths in the forest?" I continued, keeping the innocent curiosity in my voice. "Paths that aren't for hunting or gathering?"
Elara groaned softly. "Lyra, enough questions about the forest! You know what I've told you. It's not a place for little blind girls, and it's not a place for idle talk." Her voice was sharp, laced with genuine fear.
Kaelen seemed to pick up on Elara's distress. "Elara's right, Lyra," he said, his voice softer now. "The forest has its secrets. Best not to go poking about them. It can be… unsettling."
Unsettling. That word again. The villagers' fear of the unknown, of the "old magic," was palpable. But it was also a shield. A shield I needed to pierce.
"I understand," I murmured, feigning submission, but my mind was already shifting. "But Kaelen, would you… would you take me for a short walk? Just to the edge of the market? So I can really feel the village again? I promise I'll be careful. And I have my stick."
Elara gasped. "A walk? Out there? Lyra, no! It's too dangerous! What if you fell again? What if—"
"I'll be with her, Elara," Kaelen interrupted, his voice earnest. "Just a little way. I can guide her. And she has her stick. It would do her good to feel the sun on her face, even if she can't see it." He looked from me to Elara, clearly perplexed by my sudden desire to venture out, but genuinely wanting to help.
I waited, holding this body's breath. The tension in the cottage was thick. Elara was torn between her deep-seated fear and Kaelen's youthful insistence, and perhaps, a genuine desire for Lyra to experience some semblance of freedom.
Finally, with a long, drawn-out sigh that seemed to carry the weight of all her years, Elara conceded. "Very well," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Just to the edge of the market. And Kaelen, you must hold her arm. And promise me you'll bring her back safe."
"I promise, Elara," Kaelen said, his voice bright with unexpected victory. "Come on, Lyra. Let's go."
A thrill, cold and sharp, ignited within me. Freedom. A small, pathetic taste of it, but freedom nonetheless. My first step outside this cage, guided by a naïve human boy. The game was truly beginning.