𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐄

Chapter IV

   I couldn't pinpoint exactly when our days began to blend together, creating a quiet, almost secret ritual that I shared with Theron. What had started as a chance meeting in the orchard turned into a sort of rhythm — my daily rush to our hidden spot, where Theron waited for me, as if he too couldn't wait for this moment. As if he hated saying goodbye as much as I did, and the only thing that lulled him to sleep was the hope that another morning would arrive sooner than if he waited for it awake.

I liked to think about it this way — that maybe Theron saw me the same way I saw him. That I was someone intriguing to him, someone whose presence was almost addictive. Especially now, when our conversations grew longer and moments of silence stopped being awkward. We had an unspoken agreement, a kind of division of activities we shared. I would bring my lyre, and then we'd walk further into the orchard to hide from the servants, who arrived later in the morning to pick the fruit. We walked together, talking and sometimes laughing, until we reached the stream that ran down a small hill covered with fruit trees. There we would sit, dipping our bare feet in the cool water, as I softly played the lyre, filling the silence between us with gentle melodies.

Watching Theron relax, close his eyes, and smile so softly was the best reward for me — all those years of learning music seemed to find their purpose now. Sometimes my voice would join the gentle tunes my fingers were creating, while at other times he would take over as the storyteller, sharing tales of his adventures.

That peaceful continuity of our secretive routine made me lose track of time. On one hand, it felt as if each day we spent together was too short – despite being hidden behind thick clouds, the sun was moving inexorably across the sky, but on the other hand, our long conversations, touching on different subjects of life and not only, made me feel as if I'd known Theron for long years despite this being only just a few days. He had a gift of making me feel comfortable with speaking my mind despite our rough start. I could see that the subject of religion was still very important to my friend. Sometimes he was gently bringing it up during our conversations. After our little dispute...or rather disagreement in this field, Theron clearly tried to be careful. He always furrowed his brows slightly while slowly picking the right words. Sometimes he reminded me of an experienced weaver who solicitously adds another thread to his shroud, creating an even pattern. Actually, I appreciated his thoughtfulness and little by little felt less tension arising inside of me when this subject was brought up. Little by little I started listening with much more interest as the stories of his travels intertwined with the tales of the gods of Olympus.

Eventually I started asking questions about them. The tales of their bravery, incredible achievements, and talents easily captured my attention. Theron spoke of the gods of Olympus with an incredible passion that brought each story to life. He seemed fully immersed in his story as he recalled their power. When he spoke of Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, or Athena, he had a special twinkle in his eyes, and his words were carefully chosen, creating an image that was both majestic and full of awe. When he described their deeds, adventures, and power, he always did so in a respectful, and sometimes even lyrical, way, as if the sound of his voice were to convey the full power of the gods. His voice then became deeper, and the words flowed slowly, allowing each sentence to sound like a verse taken out of a song.

At first I was convinced that the tales themselves caught my attention so well that I couldn't help but impatiently wait for more, but soon I realized that it wasn't just the stories themselves that captivated me. The main thing that captured my interest was the passion that Theron had in himself whenever he brought up the subject of deities worshiped by his people. He could be telling me the most boring story known by mankind, but if he spoke like this, I would hold my breath while listening to him.

Today we again followed our beloved routine. The air was thick with the scent of ripe fruit, and the morning dew still clung to the leaves of the orchard, wrapping everything in a soft, silvery glow. As I made my way to our hidden spot, my heart fluttered a little faster, eager to see Theron again, to share in the quiet joy of our shared moments. His presence had become a steady source of comfort, something that felt as essential as the air I breathed.