Who Divides Light From Darkness by Zdenka  

Who Divides Light From Darkness

Written for Femslash Salad Bar 2024 for the prompts: Yellow, Dawn, Freeze, Keen, & 100 words minimum and 100ships prompt 043: yellow.

Finduilas wakes up while the sky is still dim outside. She reaches sleepily for Níniel.

Níniel’s place in their bed is empty, and Finduilas becomes more alert. She slips out of bed and pulls on a robe over her shift. Níniel is not anywhere in their cottage either, and unease prickles at Finduilas’s mind. She doesn’t truly think anything has happened to Níniel, here in peaceful Brethil. But she still has nightmares sometimes about reaching for someone dear to her (her father, her mother, Níniel) and feeling them slip from her hands. She simply likes to know where her loved ones are.

Finduilas slips on her boots over her bare feet and goes looking for Níniel. As she steps outside, dawn is lighting the eastern sky, and birds are calling from tree to tree. Although the trees and fields are tipped with new green, the winter still lingers, and the cold air bites keenly. Finduilas shivers and pulls her robe more tightly about her.

She doesn’t have far to seek; Níniel is behind the house, with a bow and a quiver of arrows. She stands where the night’s shadow is receding, and Finduilas catches her breath at the picture she makes. She simply stands watching for a few moments, while the first rays of the sun are gradually returning the yellow color to Níniel’s hair. Níniel is dressed in a short tunic, leaving her limbs free, and Finduilas admires her muscular arms and legs as Níniel raises her bow and nocks an arrow. She takes aim at a hay bale marked with concentric circles which she must have set up as her target. Finduilas holds her breath, not wanting to disturb Níniel’s aim.

Níniel shoots the arrows without pausing, until her quiver is empty. Her movements are swift and sure, her hand reaching for the next arrow as soon as each one leaves the bowstring. It is beautiful to watch, like the flight of a bird or the toss of a horse’s mane. When Níniel lowers her bow, Finduilas looks at the target. The arrows are clustered in a small space, every one embedded in the innermost ring.

Níniel carefully sets down her bow and goes to retrieve her arrows. When she turns back, the arrows gathered in her hand, Finduilas steps forward and calls her name.

Níniel’s face lights up at seeing her; Finduilas will never grow tired of it. “Good morning, Finduilas!”

Finduilas goes to her and leans in to kiss Níniel’s nose. She is not surprised to find her skin cold to the touch. “Come inside, love, before you freeze.”

“It is cold,” Níniel says in surprise, as if she only just noticed. Then she laughs—Finduilas loves Níniel’s laughter, which comes easily although she was named for tears. She takes her bow and arrows and follows Finduilas inside.

Finduilas is no longer sleepy. She starts assembling the ingredients for their simple breakfast to have something to do with her hands. “You remembered another skill?” she asks carefully.

Níniel nods. “Yesterday Hunthor was practicing with his bow, and I asked him to show me. And when I held the bow, I—I remembered somehow, and my hands knew what to do.”

“What an exciting life you lived,” Finduilas teases. “You knew how to read and write, spin thread, mend clothing, ride a horse, chop vegetables—and it seems you were a master archer as well!”

Níniel sighs in frustration and looks down at her hands. “If my hands remember, then why can’t I? I tried so hard to remember who taught me to shoot, who first put a bow into my hands—and there is nothing, only darkness.”

“We’ll find the truth of your past someday,” Finduilas says gently. “That is, if you want to find it.”

Níniel shakes her head as if tossing off the troubling thoughts. “Most of the time, I’m happy here, I’m happy with you,” she says frankly. “It’s only when I stumble across some new thing that I remember-but-don’t . . . then it irks me, like a pebble in my shoe.” She smiles mischievously at Finduilas. “But one thing is certain: I had never kissed anyone before!”

Finduilas finds herself blushing. Níniel laughs at her, then comes to help her make breakfast.