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*sits in a tree above a patch of poisonous flowers, singing to himself*
*watches from a distance, would very much so like to collect a few of those flowers for his experiments, but doesn't like the idea of approaching a complete stranger*
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(2/2) "The seashell is for you. Please, do not throw it away. It found me while I was swimming - it had remained stuck in my clothing - and, given its nice pattern and original colours, I thought it might be a good charm to send you, since you are so far from the sea. I wanted to make it part of a bracelet, but I only know how to do it using ropes and such material deteriorates fast, a metal armband would work better for an Elf. Will I see the shell at your wrist next time I come to Imladris?"
//Part 1 of the message.
Sadron stared at the seashell long. He held it in his hand and let his eye wander. What did he do with such a useless little thing? Why should he keep it? Especially since he wanted to have nothing to do with this mortal girl? He could not get invested in a friendship that would eventually end up in heartache.
Yet throwing away a gift would be disrespectful. Not that he should have cared, but thus far he had at least tried to hold on to some level of politeness in his acts.
He sighed, still keeping the little thing in his hand. It too managed to remind him of things long gone. There were no sandy beaches in the city of Dol Amroth, but the residents there sometimes set out on a journey to visit the closest one. All was not done purely because of fun and the chance to swim in the sea. More often than not, it was a set weekend when people from the near regions came to the beach and it eventually turned into a festival of sorts - a festival of trade, during which goods changed owner and most importantly: long lasting deals were made between the farmers and the traders in the city.
Sadron had visited the beach with Ithilwen and their family friends quite often and in his memories, he could still feel her gentle touch on his skin when they both sat in the warm sand of the beach. Oh. She would have loved a bracelet with a seashell. Why didn’t he think of it then?
Gently, he placed the shell on his table. There. It could stay there. No bracelet would be made - at least not yet, but at least he was going to keep it.
(1/2) A few months after the group from Arubel had left Imladris, among his usual correspondance, Sadron found an envelope which had been deformed by what seemed an hard lump inside it. Opening the letter, he quickly found that said lump was a seashell, a white and golden nassa snail seashell; the letter, had that not been obvious enoug, was from Firie, who had politely worded of how she hoped he was well and, after a few lines about her condition, expressed how she desired to hear from him.
//Answered here.
"I won't ask how old you are, nor does it matter. And you are right: next winter comes and I might die of a too high fever." She looked him in the eye, unwavering. "But do not think I am oblivious: I know individuals are not all-powerful. The change of your mind-set and the desire to do something are powerful forces; things change because your perception of them changes." She paused before adding: “Yes, you deserved it. Still, that was not right of me to do. I have no right to do that.”
Sadron chuckled. “You’re are quite something, but also so very naive. Do not take this in the wrong way, it is almost endearing, but…my mother used to say to me that life will teach everyone a lesson sooner or later. Hold on to your dreams, Firie, but don’t let it break you when your dreams crumble to dust. Not everyone can change and not everyone can be saved.”
I may have need for your tongue again.
Do you now, my lord? Well then, I am here to help. What…would you like to hear this time?
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Firie held the pulsating hand with which she had slapped him, face turning pale then then red again, but with shame now. "I know one thing." She rose her voice to be heard by Sadron as he walked away. "When I do not like something, I either change it or change myself. Either you are fine with being in this situation, you are fine playing this... act of bitterness, or, if you truly dislike it, then work to change it. And..." She took a deep breath. "Sorry for the slap. But you deserved it."
How foolish this child was! Sadron stopped in his steps and turned around just enough to glare towards the girl once more. “If it only was so simple and it is foolish to think everything depends on your own decisions. When you reach my age-…” He went silent. “Oh. Nevermind. That won’t happen, because your kind tends to die.” He huffed, but then admitted. “Worry not of it. Perhaps I indeed did deserve it.”
The girl became livid; with a moment's decision she gripped his lapel and, making use of the unforseen action, pulled him down and slapped his cheek with her free hand - slapped hard - before letting go. "How dare you! I am willing to know you, it's been you, the whole time, pushing me away and spouting nonesense. Like you just did! 'My kin made you what you are and you cannot go back'?! Do you even hear yourself!? Nonesense and stupidity! It is your own power to decide what and who you are!"
Sadron was taken aback by the girl’s actions and touching his cheek, he glared her with warning in his eyes. If she took one step closer to him again, came to any vicinity of him even for a second, he would not hesitate to-…
"Now look who is insulting who. Nay, even attacking the other. You are so naive, child. Yes. It is in my power to decide who I am, but what if I don’t have the strength for the decision left? You’ve clearly experienced no hardships in your short life. Or if you indeed have, perhaps you are stronger than me then. Now please just stay away from me." He turned to walk away, deciding it to be better than attacking the girl himself.
Firie's jaw dropped in disbelief before she became red with anger. "This is it. I have been nothing but kind with you, sir Sadron! I admit I might have prodded you a bit too much, but I have never been rude. You habe absolutely no right to insult me! I have been patient, I have suffered your harsh words because, despite all, you have been polite, but you do not know me and you have no right to call me 'stipid'! It is you the one who has a deficiency and fails to manage his own self properlly."
Sadron did not let his expression flinch even a bit. He kept staring at the young woman as she shout back at his face. Finally. Perhaps now she would know to stay away from him. The small glimmer of an old feeling called hope had now been wiped away once more as there was no way the girl would show any sympathy towards him anymore. “Neither do you know me or what I have had to endure because of your kin. Your kind has made me what I am today and there is no coming back from this.”
