An Unexpected Love

TWENTY ONE

Many jumps in this one, from past to present to letters to future. May come back to edit if it's hard to follow. Probably will publish before fully editing so ignore any grammar or spelling mishaps :)

Only a week had passed, and within that week there had been too many tough conversations that Navaheya was forced to participate in. She was, in a way, grateful that she wasn't required to attend the meeting of the Elven lords and Guardians of Middle Earth. She wouldn't know what she would've said if they had asked her about her feelings on the matter or even tried to explain what happened in her mother's chambers. However, she wished she could have been there, she wasn't dim, and she knew they were discussing her and her mother. Knowing that the most powerful beings in Middle Earth were only across the palace and talking about her was unsettling.

Other than that first meeting, Ilóré had sat with her every day. While Navaheya barely spoke, Ilóré spoke about her life and stories of traveling across Middle Earth while encouraging Navaheya to eat, bathe, and sleep consistently so she didn't lose herself to her mind once again. The silver-haired seamstress found comfort in the other woman, comfort in the stories she told, and the information she willingly shared. Navaheya needed an escape, a place where her mind to go where she didn't have to remember her mother rushing at her, attempting to cause her harm.

But in reality, that's all she could think about. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the dark red veins spreading around her mother's eyes and mouth. Reaching across her pale skin, like it was slowly encasing her in vines of blood. Her mother's eyes filled with rage and terror, no longer the gentle and lifeless woman she had been for centuries. The sounds that escaped her mouth as she struggled against the elven healers were a shrieks of utter fear and rage. The woman she had seen was not her mother and it was terrifying her that she could not forget a single detail.

Navaheya and Ilóré sat in the seamstress's chambers, both curled up in her soft white bedding. Navaheya was still wearing the black dress with small red flowers at the top that she had been wearing the evening prior paired with soft fluffy socks covering her feet. The woman next to her wore a very simple long-sleeved red dress and her worn and dirty brown knee-high boots sat on the ground next to the bed.

Navaheya's emotions were a mess, she was trying to focus on the woman who spoke passionately next to her about running into a few dragons many years ago and how instead of slaying them, she simply gained their trust by offering them gold and speaking with them. To the seamstress, the story sounded completely fabricated, but she didn't dare mention anything to the spitfire of a woman next to her. The silver-haired woman was grateful for Ilóré. The seamstress had never had a true friend outside of her work. The only person she had considered close enough to her was Lady Gaylia, however, she had been her supervisor more than her friend for many decades. The red witch was a strange woman, someone who seemed otherworldly and wild. Nothing like anyone she had ever met before.

Navaheya's head slowly dropped onto her new friend's shoulder listening to her words. She was tired, not physically, she was tired emotionally. She had slept most of the week, Lord Elrond had given her something to help her sleep, he had mentioned it was a very diluted and low dose of the same rose gold liquid that he had splashed on her mother to induce the coma she still resided in, although he refused to say what the liquid actually was.

Ilóré's dark hair mixed with the silver of Navaheya's as the witch placed her head on top of the seamstress'. Navaheya understood that Ilóré was trying to distract her from the conversation that she had the previous evening with Lord Elrond on her balcony.