Songs Unspoken

Celin.


I glanced at my watch. The 10,000 steps I had promised myself to do each day still eluded me. It was a meaningless challenge, nothing monumental—just a petty attempt to regain a sense of control, to convince myself that these baby steps might someday add up. That I was better than this. Stronger than this.

But I wasn’t.

I walked. The mountains had always been my favorite. They made me feel alive as if I were part of something greater—one with nature, the universe, or whatever name you’d give it. Here, I was more than a petty human in a petty world.

Every year, I tried to return to these mountains, if only for a few days. This year, they had become my refuge. I came here looking for meaning, hoping to meditate, to quiet my always-running mind. But it proved to be a battle, as expected. My thoughts were relentless and sick, and this trip felt like a failure. No amount of walking alone seemed capable of softening the grief, the rage, or the heavy melancholy that followed me like a hunter in need of prey. Yet, I followed up my plan, the only plan the logical part of me accepted, silently and weakly. I always did—sticking to a routine until I did it past the terrible parts of life. But this time, I didn’t want to move on. Moving on felt wrong, it wasn’t fair.

I stopped for a moment and gazed at the sky, watching birds far above me, flying in groups. Did they see me? Were they happy I was here? Stupid question, birds don't bother themselves with us. We, humans, think ourselves very important. I looked down, and a small spider skittered near my shoe, startling me. I jumped, instinctively, careful not to crush it. Looking to my right, the sight of the waterfall cascading down jagged cliffs left me breathless, as it does every time. My eyes landed on my hotel, maybe tonight, I’d try a new dish at dinner, I thought about the new dish I found that is served with special cheese. I turned left and walked.

An hour later, my watch buzzed—9,000 steps. Progress. I had made it this far without music or those stupid self-improvement podcasts. Supposedly, the silence was meant to sharpen my consciousness, but I felt... nothing. As I walked into the trees, the air grew quieter, richer, carrying an earthy scent. A faint smile tugged at my lips, something rare.

And then I saw it.

Ahead of me, a fawn stood motionless, its large eyes shimmering strangely, in a way that made me blink. Was it a trick of the light—or maybe my contact lenses? The fawn tilted its head, curious. I held my breath, foolishly hoping for its mother to appear—a majestic stag or a protective doe. Instead, the fawn took a step forward. I mirrored it, without planning for it, enchanted. It felt like something out of a fairytale.

For the first time in months, I felt a flicker of joy, a spark of excitement. The fawn turned, taking a few steps before glancing back at me as if telling me ‘come on, girl’. Of course, I followed, who wouldn’t? my inner child taken over the charge, my grin growing wider with every step. For some moments, I forgot everything, and I felt only joy, pure and rough. Could I be this lucky? A baby deer leading me somewhere—it felt too magical to be real, maybe it’s playing with me, then I will play along.

The fawn picked up its pace, disappearing around a bend. I hurried to keep up. When I rounded the corner, the sight ahead made me freeze. A vast expanse of water stretched before me—shining like silver under the sun. Was it the sea? No, it couldn’t be. There were no seas in Switzerland. A lake? But it didn’t seem right. Worry fluttered at the edges of my mind, it had become my constant companion lately, I brushed it aside. Maybe I’d forgotten about this spot. Maybe it is a big lake? Surely, there was an explanation.

But where was the fawn? I looked around, only trees and bushes and that shimmering water, which was too inviting! I walked towards it, kneeling at the edge. Its surface shimmered with an otherworldly brilliance. I scooped some into my hands and splashed it on my face. The sensation was electric—a coolness that seemed to ripple through my very being, I can swear at that moment all of my body cells felt its freshness. I stood, feeling strangely invigorated, and decided to sit a bit there, and then after I was back at the hotel I’d check Google Maps later to figure out where I was.

I turned around and there were two men standing alongside the water, staring at me. They wore strange clothing—clocks or tunics that looked like something from another time. Were they filming a movie? Definitely not here, I didn’t see any special equipment, maybe they were fans of a book club? Strange things people do these days.

I hesitated, then nodded politely. Their gazes didn’t waver. Curious, I called out, “Hi!”

I noticed their swords a bit late.

Thalion.

I was standing there at my post. It was boring. The sea never changes, and nothing ever happens here. The monotony came with the job description.

Commander Varohil’s harsh words echoed in my head: “Better to be bored than to be on the battlefield.” I doubted even he believed it. I leaned against my spear, staring at the shimmering expanse of water, my mind wandering. What am I even guarding? And from what? Why the hell I should carry this spear and this heavy sword with me? I sighed.

If I wanted to be a soldier, I had to endure it. All soldiers endured.

They said I was too young for anything important, well that is unfortunately true, there was only one elf younger than me in Lindon, she is 1 year my junior, always making trouble, I am much more mature, However, it doesn’t change the fact. And I knew that damned Erion had a hand in me being assigned to this post more often than not. I sighed again, I do that a lot, you know. Then, something caught my eye.

From the trees, someone emerged—a figure moving cautiously toward the shore. My heart leaped. Finally, an encounter! Maybe today won’t be entirely pointless, maybe I get to say hi to somebody new! This somebody was a woman. She paused, looking around as if lost, but she didn’t seem to notice me. Am I that invisible? Should I go closer? She moved to the water and knelt to wash her hands and face. Her movements were deliberate, unhurried. I squinted.

She wasn’t an elf; her ears were perfectly round. A human. A few humans were living near Lindon, but not many. And rarely did women wander alone. Curiosity piqued, I studied her. Her attire was odd. She wasn’t wearing the skirts we typically saw on human women. Instead, she wore... trousers? And a strange, indecent garment—short, sleeveless, I could see her belly button. I flushed and averted my gaze, focusing instead on her head, I was supposed to be gallant and chivalrous, but I knew I should approach her, I was thinking about what to say, maybe a commanding sentence, but I was too slow.

She turned and seemed to notice me now. Then, with a casual wave, she called out, “Hi!” I froze, unsure how to respond. Before I could muster a reply, Varohil’s voice, firm and commanding, interrupted. “I will see to this. Come with me.” I jumped. When did he arrive here? Varohil had always walked quietly, a skill I envied.

He strode forward with his usual stiff demeanor. To her credit, the woman didn’t flinch. “Good day, stranger,” he greeted her. His tone polite but guarded. She arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Good day to you too, strangers from the Middle Ages” she replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. Her eyes flicked between us, studying us openly. Heat crept up my neck as her gaze lingered, sweeping over me from head to toe. I wasn’t used to women looking at me so brazenly. I watched her, she had some well-made delicate pieces of jewelry, a small satchel, very well crafted hung from her shoulder, and she had strange big white shoes, she looked strange, but not in a brash way.

Varohil continued, his tone sharp: “What are you doing at these shores? Humans do not wander these parts.” I was sure he had gathered on her queerness more than I had. She tilted her head, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. “Oh, I was just walking. But seriously, drop the act. What are you guys doing here? I don’t see any teams or equipment.” Varohil stiffened. The term 'guys' clearly jarred him. How long had it been since anyone had referred to him so casually? A millennium, perhaps? I stifled my laugh.

He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. “Lady,” he said, his voice low and authoritative, “I would like you to answer me clearly. What are you doing here, and where are your companions?” he was trading lightly. She hesitated, the smile faltering briefly, but then she laughed—a warm, unrestrained sound that only deepened my confusion. “Wow,” she said, shaking her head, “you’re really committed to this role, huh?” Varohil’s jaw tightened. “Do not humor me, woman,” he warned, taking another step forward. To her credit, she didn’t back down, but her voice was a bit hesitant. “Look, buddy,” she said evenly, “I’m going back the way I came. And you? You can get back to your... act, or whatever crazy thing this is.” Now panic was evident in her figure.

Varohil retorted “I am sorry lady but it is me who is commanding here.” He took one step towards her, she backed down, the signs of terror evident on her face, she picked out something from her pocket, it was a strange small knife, she said“I have a knife”Varohi pointed at his belt “I have a sword.”

But then something shone on her wrist, how did we not notice it before? Maybe we were occupied by the strange look in her eye, glossier than usual. The strange thing around her wrist was just too refined to be made by human, and a slight light came from it. To my satisfaction, Varohil seemed to notice it at the same time as I did, his guard changed, he drew out his sword, and pointed it out to the woman “you witch! What is this sorcery?”

She was bewildered “what? Are you really crazy? What is wrong with you?”

She took some steps backward. Varohil growled:“ What is that false light you carry on your wrist? You servant of Morgoth.”

The woman flinched, visibly startled. Her gaze darted to her wrist, and her brows furrowed in confusion. “What the hell? This is a watch!” she snapped, her voice tinged with panic. “Stop it, you’re being creepy.”

She was shaking now, fear seeping through her defiance, but she still managed to stand her ground. “I do not fear you, witch,” Varohil spat, his voice like ice. “Yield. Now.”

I stood frozen, my heart hammering in my chest. Witches—they were supposed to be creatures of the East, wrapped in shadow and lore. My mother’s warnings about their powers surged in my mind. Yet, she didn’t look like a witch. She seemed… human. And, if I were honest, she was rather striking. Could witches be pretty?

She demanded, desperation in her voice. “Listen to me. I’m leaving. There are people who will search for me at my hotel. They’ll find you, and it won’t end well for you.” She was trembling now, but her every word spoken with raw determination.

Varohil stepped closer, his tone a menacing growl. “Where are your witch companions? You’re going to tell us everything, or I will make you.”

That was clearly too much for her. Terror finally won over resolve, and she turned and bolted into the trees. Her legs carried her swiftly across the uneven ground. She was quick, but Varohil was quicker. I followed along. In just a few strides, he caught up to her, his hand clamping down on her arm like a vice. She twisted desperately, bringing out that petty knife, her movements fueled by sheer panic rather than skill. Varohil didn’t flinch. With the ease of a seasoned warrior, he disarmed her in a single motion, the blade clattering uselessly to the ground. Before she could react further, he shoved her down hard. She hit the earth with a thud, a sharp cry escaping her lips. Her body tensed as she writhed beneath him, trying to escape, but it was futile.

I winced as I watched. Despite everything, I felt a pang of pity for her—a witch or not, she was clearly overpowered. Varohil’s eyes narrowed as he glared at the strange object strapped to her wrist, its smooth surface gleaming unnaturally. With a swift slash of his dagger, he severed the band, and the object fell to the ground. A faint glow emitted from it—tiny, precise lights forming strange lines. I stared at it and shivered. What kind of human device could produce such a thing?

Varohil’s hand pressed firmly against her torso, pinning her down with his weight. His movements were calculated and unyielding, a soldier in complete control. The woman strained against him, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps, but his strength was overwhelming. She couldn’t move an inch. “Let me go, you crazy man!” she panted, her voice trembling with fear.

“Silence,” Varohil hissed, his tone icy. From his satchel, he pulled out a length of rope. Did he always carry that? I’d never thought to ask. With practiced efficiency, he twisted her arms behind her back, binding her wrists tightly. She groaned in protest, struggling against the restraint, but it only made his knots tighter. “You will answer directly to our king,” Varohil said coldly, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “He will decide your fate. And you can be certain that all your witch companions will suffer the same.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears as she glared up at him. “I’m not a witch,” she choked out, her voice cracking with emotion. “If I were, you’d have a much harder time catching me.”

Her words seemed to cut through the tension, but Varohil was unmoved. Tearing a strip of fabric from his cloak, he gagged her swiftly. She let out a muffled cry, her body shaking as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. Finally, Varohil hauled her to her feet. She swayed unsteadily, her legs trembling beneath her. Her wide, tear-filled eyes scanned the surroundings before landing on me. For a moment, her gaze locked with mine, and I felt a lump rise in my throat. Her fear was palpable, raw, and it shook something inside me. She was terrified.

And while Varohil remained stoic and resolute, I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d made a terrible mistake.

Varohil led us along a route seldom used by guards or others. It was clear he wanted to avoid prying eyes. He had wrapped his cloak tightly around her, and threatened her in a low, commanding tone not to make a sound. Judging by her terrified state, I doubted she would dare disobey. To ensure even more discretion, he’d pulled the hood of his cloak over her head, obscuring her face.

We moved in silence, Varohil taking the lead while I walked beside her, gripping her arm through the folds of his cloak. The road was quiet, and we encountered few along the way. Varohil had given me explicit instructions: “We are going straight to the king’s wing, to his private quarters. Speak of this to no one.” He’d punctuated his order with a sharp glare. I nodded obediently, probably this secrecy was the most important thing I have ever done thus far in my whole life.

She stumbled often, her steps faltering as the hood blocked her vision. Each time, I steadied her, gripping her arm firmly to keep her upright. She felt fragile under my hand, her fear evident, and I couldn’t help but pity her. Maybe that’s why Varohil thinks I’m unfit to be a soldier—because I pity too much. Still, I couldn’t forget what Varohil carried in his satchel: the strange, glowing device he’d cut from her wrist. Witchcraft or something worse, it made my skin crawl just to think of it.

After what felt like an hour, we arrived at the king’s wing. Varohil ordered the guards at the entrance to leave their posts, stating he needed privacy with the king. His tone left no room for argument. “Stay here,” Varohil barked at me, his voice sharp and precise. I nodded, watching as he knocked on the door to the king’s private chamber. To my surprise, the king was present, and Gil-galad’s deep, solemn voice came from within, bidding Varohil to enter.

Now, it was just me and the witch outside the closed door. Her breaths were uneven and ragged. From time to time, she shivered, the same way she had throughout the entire journey. I kept glancing at her, wondering if I should say something to reassure her, but the words died in my throat. What a guard can say to a witch anyway.

Finally, she spoke, her voice muffled and low through the fabric binding her mouth. “Who is the king?”

I stiffened, unsure how to respond. Instead, I forced my voice to steady and adopted my most authoritative tone. “Silence, witch,” I said, though I could hear the unease in my own words.

She fell quiet. It wasn’t long before Varohil emerged from the chamber. His expression was grim and determined. “Stay here,” he ordered me again before grabbing her arm roughly and leading her inside. She stumbled slightly as he dragged her through the door. I stood there alone, the heavy door shutting with an ominous thud behind them. My mind swirled with thoughts of what might happen inside, but I dared not speculate too much.

This wasn’t the kind of day I’d hoped for when I wished for excitement while standing bored on the shores.